


Ill Communication

by Lokisgame



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-05-25 15:51:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14980463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokisgame/pseuds/Lokisgame
Summary: She washed down two pills on her way from the kitchenette to the office, burning her tongue slightly on hot coffee. The pot was half empty, Mulder was already in.





	1. Chapter 1

She picked up some Tylenol on her way to work. Scully could suffer through many aches and pains, but pounding headaches were a dreadful memory to be avoided, at all costs. She washed down two pills on her way from the kitchenette to the office, burning her tongue slightly on hot coffee. The pot was half empty, Mulder was already in.  
"The victims were found by the lake, never in the same place twice."  
He read from a case file spread over his side of the desk and she tried to follow, honestly tried to listen to what he was saying, but the pain seemed to take root behind her ears and all she could do was try to rub it out, as discretely as possible.  
“Without an obvious cause of death, the coroner declared it to be exposure and,” he broke off mid-sentence and she looked up.   
“Are you okay?” Mulder asked, concern written all over his face.  
“Yeah, I’m fine, just a headache.” Faking a smile she sat up straight. “Go on, you were talking about exposure.”  
Mulder smiled back and continued, “the coroner seemed to attend the same school as doctor...”  
She didn't get to hear the name. A high pitched noise rose in her ears, swallowing his pun and then something popped and suddenly, silence. Her eyes grew wide as she watched him speak without any sounds coming from his mouth.  
“Mulder?” She tested her voice and it came muffled, weird and deformed, as if she was speaking under water. His eyebrows went up and his lips moved again, nothing.   
“Mulder?!” Panic creeped in.  
Moving away from the desk, hands covering her ears, she worked her jaw, trying to balance the pressure. He was at her side in an instant, kneeling by the chair, hand on her cheek, questions in his eyes.  
“I can’t hear you!” She said, frightened heart racing.  
Mulder blanched and took her face in his hands; said something, then again, expression changing from fear to panic. She knew his face well enough to know he was shouting, but all she caught was a faint echo sounding like, “hospital.”  
Nodding, Scully hauled herself up, but she wobbled, as her head swam. Mulder’s arm was around her in a heartbeat, face filled with the kind of fear she didn't see in a while.  
“I’m fine” she felt herself say in a mindless reflex, a sentiment Mulder definitely did not share.  
He patted his pockets for keys, and hand on the small of her back, if not completely around her, led her out of the office. 

Stopping on a red light, he found a notepad in the glove compartment and handed it to her with a pen. Scully's surprise lasted less than a second, then she flipped it open and started jotting down symptoms, the ringing, the headaches, the pills she took that day. Everything that might help establish a cause, while trying to stay detached; sticking to facts without interpreting them. It was her only hope to keep calm.  
In the driver's seat, Mulder kept his eyes on the road, risking only an occasional glance in her direction, griping the wheel like it was a life preserver. He drove like a madman, knowing the route to the nearest hospital all too well.  
Their greatest fear hung unspoken between them. 

Sitting in a waiting room, with Scully's coat in his lap and her gun concealed in the folds, felt all too familiar. Pale walls, plastic chairs, scent of fear and disinfectant. Needles and tests, forms and long waits. A nurse passed him pushing a wheelchair, in it, a frail looking woman in a robe and a scarf around her head.  
Mulder prayed silently, face hidden in his hands. _'Please, please, not again.'_  
The time their days were numbered still haunted him and he never wanted to live through it again. In his minds' eye, he clearly saw Scully’s pale, sunken face, her fragile hands. Seeing her brave through the pain for his sake; watching her fade away while saying nothing, for her sake. They were masters of denial then; don’t ask, don’t tell, soldier on.  
Did she keep new secrets from him lately, did he miss something? Was she suffering in silence again? Did the implant fail? How sure were they it would work forever?  
What if they bought each other only a little more time and he wasted even that, coward that he was, and now she would never hear him say...  
_'No, don’t think that way,'_ he scolded himself just when the doors to the doctor's office opened. Scully came and he searched her face for a sign, some warning as to what to expect, and she must have noticed the fear because she smiled.  
“The CT-scan came clean,” she said a little louder than usual, “it’s not a tumour.”  
Mulder breathed out and with it, his whole body relaxed, sinking into the chair, making her chuckle, relieved as she was. “Come on, we just need to fill my prescription and we can go.”  
He nodded, unable to keep the grin of his face.

Mulder drove her home.  
Radio played in the background, but the signal kept breaking, so he fiddled with the dial each time they stopped on a red light. At the fourth try, Mulder finally found some clear enough rock station, doing the daily charts countdown. Scully didn't mind, looking out the window with a faint smile, thoroughly doped up.  
Song after song, fingers drumming on the wheel, head bobbing to the rhythm, Mulder couldn't stop grinning. Beastie Boys' "Sabotage" invaded the car, like a police raid on a hot summer night. MTV played the clip over and over again and he loved the 70's crime tv show vibe so the song grew on him as well. Expecting no protests from the passenger seat, he cranked the volume up, but Scully's head sprang up the moment he did.  
"Mulder, do you know why you're not supposed to eat after anaesthetic injections, when you go to the dentist?" She asked, a trace of warning in her voice, raised tad above the radio.  
He nodded, amused; the question rhetoric. She knew he always took the shot and the dentist told him every time, to wait until he regained feeling in his mouth, otherwise he could bite off his tongue or do something equally awkward.  
"You want me to go deaf permanently?"  
The chagrin was instant, he turned the volume back down, mouthing an apology. He was such a punk sometimes.  
"You're such a kid sometimes." She said, shaking her head, smiling slightly.

Parking in front of her place, Mulder turned the engine off and made with his fingers, mimicking walking and pointing to her windows.  
"I'm fine, you don't have to walk me to the door."  
He shrugged and retrieved the meds from the back seat. Scully took the package and he held up eight fingers for her to see. They decided she shouldn't drive for the time being, unused to deafness as she was.  
"8:30," she haggled.  
Mulder folded his hands under one cheek and pretended to be startled awake, eyes wide, looking around comically. She laughed.  
"Don't worry, I won't oversleep."  
He showed her eight fingers again, then one, then five. 8:15 am.  
"Fine," she sighed and bid him a good night.  
He waited five more minutes after the lights in her apartment turned on, then drove home. Radio stayed off. 

As far as wakeup's go, phone in the morning was one of the more brutal ways to start the day. Mulder almost fell off the couch, trying to reach the receiver to fast, and was only half conscious when he hit talk, rubbing his brain to life through his eyes.  
"Mulder," he mumbled and the female voice on the other side was a genuine surprise.  
"Fox, this is Maggie Scully, I'm sorry to call you this early."  
"Hi, mrs Scully," he relaxed and sat up, "it's fine, what can I do for you?"  
"Is everything alright with Dana? I was trying to call her, but she won't answer her phone." Maggie's concern registered as she tried to explain herself, worry steadily growing into panic. "She was supposed to meet me yesterday, and this must sound stupid, but I had a dream last night. I kept calling her name but she wouldn't react, and I couldn't shake the feeling that something happened."  
He sighed and plopped back down on the couch; double embarrassment, double the fun. "No, mrs Scully, she's okay, well, mostly, she just couldn't hear the phone."  
"What do you mean?"  
"Please, don't be angry with her, we should have called you immediately."  
"Please, Fox, just tell me what happened."  
"The doctor called it sudden hearing loss," he said and Maggie gasped, so he rushed to calm her. "She's on medication, and given that we caught it fast, should be back to normal in no time."  
"Is it?" Mulder knew the meaning behind the pause.  
"No, it's not cancer, just a nasty ear infection. Apart from being deaf as a log and some minor headaches, Scully's fine." Relieved sigh carried over the phone from the other side of town. "It all happened so fast, we had the same fears, so you probably imagine our relief. She most likely forgot, please, don't hold it against her."  
"No, of course not. Is she home?"  
"She refused the leave, as usual."  
"Don't let her work too hard then, and tell her I'll stop by tonight."  
"I will."  
They said their goodbye's and Mulder got up for his morning run. 

Mulder chuckled under his breath, after knocking by pure reflex, and fished for the key in his pocket, to let himself in.  
Silence in the apartment made him smile wider. The door to the bedroom stood slightly open and he saw her, fast asleep, breathing evenly through slightly parted lips. He crouched by the bed and brushed away a strand of hair from her cheek, smile fading slightly, she was burning up.  
Scully jumped, startled and dazed, batting away his hand in a self-defence reflex, looking around frantically, as if she didn't know where she was for a second. Mulder pressed a gentle hand to her chest, a quiet reassurance, and when her eyes finally focused on him, she sagged back on the pillows, relieved.  
"It's okay, it's just me," he crooned, smoothing the tangled mess away again. She groaned and feeling his hand, grabbed him by the wrist and pushed his cold fingers against the aching spot behind one ear. Kneeling on the floor, Mulder cradled her head in his arms, a kiss to her temple for lack of soothing words.  
"I should have taken the day off," she moaned.  
Hand like a cool compress, stroking gently, he held her for a long moment or three, wondering where she put the pills.  
"The meds are in the kitchen," she said softly, "could you?" 

Mulder made her eat the bagel he brought for breakfast, before she could take any pills, sitting on the edge of the bed, sipping coffee for company. Slightly flushed with fever, she leaned on pillows, waiting for the medication to kick in.  
"You can't imagine how weird this feels," she sighed, stifling a yawn, "I kept waking up all night, convinced I heard someone in the house, then that the phone rang."  
Mulder's eyebrows shot up and he looked around for something to write on, found nothing at hand. His always prepared Scully was slipping, so he had to do it the hard way.  
He poked his index finger at her, then at the first thing that came to mind when he thought about Maggie, Scully's necklace. She watched him curiously when he put his palm to his ear, thumb and pinky finger outstretched.  
"What?" She had to stifle a giggle when he jiggled the hand/phone, "you want me to call someone?"  
Mulder threw his head back, exasperated, and poked the necklace again.  
"You want me to call God?" She laughed outright this time, "I will go to mass on Sunday, if it makes you feel better."  
He chuckled, so much for their wordless communication. Pointing at the cross again, he made an offering motion with his hands; he sucked at charades.  
"You want to give me my cross?" She hedged, and Mulder nodded frantically, then held up one finger for attention.  
"Not exactly," Scully translated, expecting more clues. He nodded, pointed at himself, then shook his finger at her.  
"Not you." She guessed. Smiling, he tapped the cross again, took her hand and mimed placing the necklace there, then folded her fingers around it.  
"Someone who gave me the necklace."   
He risked concussion nodding his head.  
Scully's eyes went wide and she covered her mouth with one hand, "My mom, I was supposed to meet my mom yesterday."  
"YES!" Mulder exclaimed, trowing his hands in the air in triumph. She called after him when he got up to leave, but he held up one finger, asking for a minute and came back with a notepad she kept on the fridge, scribbling frantically.  
_Your mom called me, she got worried, I explained what happened, she'll stop by later._  
"Oh no," Scully groaned, hiding face in her hands. "I am such a bad daughter."  
He tapped her hands with the notepad. _You're not!_  
"I was supposed to take her car to the mechanic."  
He took the pen and added. _Let me do it._  
"Mulder, no, you don't have to." He smiled and shrugged dismissively, it was no problem at all. "Thank you."  
He got up and straightened the covers, then passed her the still warm coffee, waiting on the night stand.  
"You're going?" she asked and her tone made his heart grow 3 sizes. Taking the notebook he wrote:  
_I'll call your mom, find out about the car, maybe bring her here later. We can play more charades when I get back._  
That made her laugh. "What about work?"  
She passed him the notepad and he showed her his reply.  
_SICK DAY._  
He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. Scully squeezed his hand.


	2. Chapter 2

"She's a bit jumpy." Mulder said opening the door for Maggie, and the first thing that hit them was the scent of cooking dinner. Mulder's mouth watered instantly at the mixture of tomatoes, backed cheese and meat.  
Scully was in the kitchen, her back to the door as she stretch on her tiptoes, trying to reach something from the topmost shelf in the cupboard. Watching her struggle, he crossed the room and gently rested one hand on the small of her back. She jumped slightly, breath hitching, then laughed, swatting at his chest.  
"You'll give me a heart attack," she joked and looked over his shoulder, "hi Mom."  
"Oh Dana, honey," she hugged her daughter and asked, "how are you feeling?"  
"I'm fine, mom." Scully answered, catching them by surprise.  
Mulder was pretty sure it was a reflex, but he said nothing from his perch against the counter. Maggie smiled letting go and took the plates to start setting the table.  
Scully tried the cupboard again, but he beat her to it. Hand on her waist, he reached for the wine glasses.  
"Less than two days on steroids and she thinks she's okay." He teased, more to Maggie than Scully.  
"She always was the self-reliant one."  
"I got bored and made dinner," Scully said, turning to Mulder. "You're staying, right?" He beamed and nodded as she took the glass he offered. "Just two, I can't, meds."  
Something chirped in the pocket of her sweater and she grabbed it before he could do anything more than look puzzled. Could she already be recovering?  
"The mechanism jiggles lightly when it buzzes," she explained, smiling brightly.  
"Aren't you resourceful," he said to her back, quite impressed.  
She grabbed the oven mittens and pulled out the lasagna, swiftly placing it in the middle of the table. It smelled divine.  
"Mulder, wine's in the fridge." She instructed and he pulled out a chair for Maggie while at it.  
A fleeting thought crossed his mind; Scully got bossy, when she couldn't hear him say no to her. Not that he would have, of course, it was months since he was invited to a home cooked dinner, and sure, he was used to sharing meals with Scully, but it was either diner specials, pizza or takeout; never something she cooked herself, thinking about her mother, and him.  
He opened the refrigerator and found it pretty much stocked, that earned her a reproachful look.  
"Yes, I went shopping." She challenged and he narrowed his eyes at her for a second, then shrugged, taking out a bottle of red. Scully handed him the corkscrew, smiling reassuringly, "don't worry, I took a cab."  
"It looks delicious," Maggie said to the room, amused by the way they argued.  
Scully cut into the dish and when Mulder saw a solid slice of pasta with tomatoes and ground meat, oozing steaming sauce over his plate, he forgot whatever else he had to say. He poured the wine and sat down, staring at his food, speechless.  
It looked and smelled like home, it was the only way he could describe it. The way he remembered, before his carefree childhood was taken away, along with his sister.  
"Mulder?" Scully asked, concerned by his expression. She saw him many times, eating ready-made lasagna, hastily reheated in the microwave, so she was pretty sure he liked it. But then he snapped out of it and smiled at her, fork in hand.  
Under the watchful eye of mother and daughter, he cut off a small piece from the side, scooping up sauce with pasta, and put it in his mouth. It was perfect, not too soft, not too hard, and the sauce was rich and heavy with herbs and scalding hot, just as he liked it. He groaned in delight and went for more, burned mouth be damned.  
"This is great," he mumbled and Maggie laughed.  
"He likes it?" Scully asked her mom, at once anxious and amused.  
"Very much," she replied as Mulder caught Scully's eye, and pointing to the plate, rolled his eyes in delight and gave her a decided thumbs up; sauce staining the corner of his full mouth. She laughed and wiped it with a napkin. He took it, their fingers brushing, and dug in heartily. 

"Where do you put it all?" Maggie wondered as Mulder wiped the last of the sauce of his plate with a piece of bread crust.  
"I run?" He never really thought about it. Sport helped him calm down and burn off the emotions that came with the job; no matter how much he ate, he burned it off sooner or later.  
"You don't do this often either," Maggie smiled her gentle smile, "home cuisine I mean."  
Mulder shook his head sheepishly and glanced at Scully, who looked lost in her own happy thoughts. He sure could get used to this.  
"You should come to dinner some time, with Dana."  
"I don't want to intrude on your family time," he said, heart aching. He wanted to, but only if Scully wanted him too.  
"You did so much for her, for us," Maggie's words made him lower his gaze and study the wine glass, "you are family, Fox."  
Scully recognized her mother's smile, one that made even her feel too small to handle all the love, and broke the tension getting up and gathering plates. "Why are you trying to make him uncomfortable?" she said with humor.  
"I am not." Maggie laughed, shaking her head and took the notepad Scully kept close at hand.  
_'Do you need anything from me tonight?_  
Scully read the note, a little surprised, "you're leaving?"  
_'I can see you're in good hands, I'll stop by on Sunday'._ Maggie kissed her cheek then turned to Mulder. "Can you call me a cab, please."  
"I can drive you," he offered, getting up as well.  
She rounded the table and hugged him warmly, "no need, but thank you, and remember that my invitation stands."  
"I will," he said, hugging her back. 

Once the door closed after Maggie, Scully tugged at his sleeve. “What was that all about?”  
Mulder shrugged and went back to the phone, tapping the machine with one finger.  
Scully noticed the blinking red light "Oh, can you write down the messages for me?”  
Hand over his heart, he pretended to be shocked, Scully was starting to get used to his pantomime. “Yes, I trust you that much, you want desert?” He nodded eagerly and she went to the kitchen.  
They met back on the couch, two bowls of ice cream on the coffee table, Mulder’s unfinished wine, the coffee machine gurgling in the background.  
"Telemarketing, mom, mom,” Scully looked through his notes, "another one from mom, she really got scared."  
Mulder sighed and stopped picking chunks of chocolate from his ice cream. He took the notes and replaced them with her own bowl; there was nothing urgent in the messages anyway.  
"Where were you all day?" she asked, poking the ice cream to melt faster. "Did the mechanic take that long to check the oil and breaks?"  
Shaking his head, he pointed to the notes, then the top of his head.  
"You talked to mom, okay, but you don't look like you had a haircut."  
That made him laugh and he ran his fingers through his hair, this time smoothing them flat.  
"Skinner!" she exclaimed and chuckled.  
Mulder grinned and showed her 3 fingers, then folded his palms under one cheek, spoon in his mouth, miming sleep.  
"You got me 3 days off." She stated, not so amused anymore. He nodded solemnly, digging in his bowl, avoiding her eyes. "With or without the weekend." He showed her 5 fingers and she sighed. "Fine, and what will you do, while I'm gone?"  
One arm around her, he pulled her into his side, kissing her cheek softly; his lips ice cream chilled.  
Scully looked at him, blushing surprise. "What was that for?"  
Mulder nodded in the direction of the kitchen.  
"Dinner? You're welcome." He let go and got back to his ice cream.  
"You took the time off as well, didn't you."  
He didn't look up and it was all the confirmation she needed. She expected it actually. There was no point in arguing, it was Friday night anyway. So, curling her feet under herself, she leaned against his side, enjoying her desert and his relieved sigh.  
When Mulder moved to get up after a while, the tv remote dug into her thigh. He took the bowl from her and went to the kitchen; one glance and she figured he must have heard that the coffee was done. He knew where she kept the mugs, took the milk from the fridge, though he liked his black. Coming back, he offered her her favorite mug and she offered him the remote as he sat down in the exact same spot, so their shoulders touched again.  
He found the game, Scully didn't mind. She watched the green field, the scores, the players dance and swing and run; it looked kind of funny without the sound.

When Mulder came back with the coffee and Scully again leaned against his side, something in him cracked. Not in a dramatic way, he didn't weep with joy or anything, but the warmth that flooded him, made the thought of going back to his apartment, take-out food and impersonal porn feel like a punishment. He felt home around her.  
By the 6th inning, Scully's head fell on his shoulder, her breathing measured, one-two of deep sleep. Pulling the blanket of the back of the couch he draped it over her, and then closed his eyes as well, just for a second...  
Until she wakes up...  
Was carb coma a proper medical term? He had to ask...  
And by the green light of the tv, they slept. 

The clock on the VCR blinked 3am when he woke up, Scully cuddled into his side, her head on his shoulder in the narrow space of the couch. Nature called, so as gently as possible, he untangled himself from her arms, resting her head on the pillow, she was a little warmer than usual, but it could be sleep. He tucked her in.  
Why did he try to stay quiet was a mystery. The glaring white light of the bathroom chased away sleep. He downed a glass of water and looked at himself in the mirror. Leaving was the last thing he wanted to do, but it was the right thing.  
By the light of the tv, he scribbled a note and weighed it down with a glass of water on the coffee table, where she would find it. Allowing himself one last long glance, he left, locking the doors on his way out. 

Scully woke up, startled, disoriented and alone. She kicked away the blanket, sitting up, head swimming with the abrupt motion. The tv was off, no light under the bathroom door.  
"Mulder?" She called into the darkness. Nothing, no movement, just silence.  
She went to check the bedroom, if by some slim chance he was hiding from her. Turning on the lights in the kitchen, everything was the way she left it, the few dishes, two mugs in the sink.  
Forcing herself to calm down, she figured, he must have left. She shouldn't feel surprised, and yet she was.  
Undressing as she went, she found her pj's and climbed into the cool bed, watching the lights dance on the ceiling, as sleep evaded her. She could use a warm Mulder right now, the man was a walking furnace, but smelled better.  
She drifted in and out of sleep, waking up startled after what felt like hours but was in fact minutes, hating it, aware that she would be useless in the morning.  
Only when the sky started to turn pink, she managed to fall asleep, her last thought being of Mulder, and his cute ears. He could be her ears.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _"We met by the light of the test pattern, he thought."_  
>  'Bucky F*cking Dent' - by David Duchovny

The next morning, when Scully was straightening the living room, she found Mulder's message. The last word underlined, twice, for emphasis.  
_"Email me if you need anything, M"_  
It was quite touching, he knew she didn't like hovering. She folded the note and put it in the pocket of his hoodie. 

With coffee and a bar of chocolate, curled up in the corner of the sofa under a warm blanket, Scully opened her dogeared copy of Moby Dick. Trying to read while simultaneously keeping one eye on the door, made her mind wander.  
She sipped coffee, soaking up the cozy warmth. It wasn't the same as the night before, not even close, but she couldn't expect Mulder to give up his day just to keep her company. Knowing him, he probably was at the office, leave be damned, searching for answers to questions no one bothered to ask, or throwing pencils at the ceiling, or both, you could never be sure with that man.  
She tried the book again, read a few pages, her gaze shifting between words and doors, the vague unease never fading.  
It was the silence ringing in her ears, a constant pitch, like test tone on tv when she was a kid. Unused to the sound, it commanded her attention, pulling it away from the book.  
With coffee gone, headache looming in the background and no Mulder to distract her from her own thoughts, the day dragged on. 

She ate reheated lasagna for lunch. Cleaned up the microwave and the stove, and the floors after that. Sitting on the kitchen table, she watched the coffee machine, waiting for the light to turn off, thinking about the single mug on the counter. _Which one Mulder considered his own?_ Looking out the window, mild afternoon called out with forsythia gold. She was terrible at being useless and hated the self-imposed lock-up, so she found her travel mug, washed it clean, filled it with coffee and went for a walk. 

Funny thing, forced isolation. Now when she couldn't hear anything, she wanted to call all her friends, talk to them, know what they were up to these days, meet up perhaps? It was ages since she spoke to Ellen, shamefully neglecting her duties as a godmother.  
Most people, once recovered from cancer, felt like they got a second chance at life, hungered for it. She felt it too, but the prospect of explaining the bizarre nature of her illness and recovery, made her feel more isolated than ever. She was reshaping that drive into strength to keep fighting the good fight, and was beginning to understand the life Mulder lead for years now. The mystery of Samantha's disappearance hanging around him like a fog, obscuring everything else. How long did it take for him to realize, that it's easier to hide it, choosing life of loneliness, with exception for a few selected friends.  
She sat on a bench drinking coffee, alone in the crowd. Not lonely, but removed from the regular stream of life. An outsider.  
She was one of those selected few friends Mulder kept, and he was that friend to her as well. One who didn't need to ask why when she was in need, one who was there for her without reservations. He stole, lied and killed for her, and that was only inside the past year. Those weren't the kind of debts you kept in a ledger marked red, waiting to be repaid. Those were the things that bound people together. After that, no favor was too small, no request too bizarre.  
Now, she needed her friend. She was bored and she wanted some company, and it was okay to ask, especially that she was pretty sure of his answer. 

\----

It was nothing unusual for Mulder to wake up tangled with the blanket. That morning he was hugging a large portion of it with one arm; the way he fell asleep with Scully last night.  
He dreamed about a house; dark, hardwood floors and wrap-around porch, far from any road. In the dream, he wasn't alone, he was home. It was a good dream and that's what made it unusual.  
He spent morning and better part of the afternoon, digging through cryptozoology message boards, UFO-watch forums and chatrooms, searching for a subject for his long overdue piece for the Lone Gunman. Frohike was starting to get cranky about it.  
All that time, he kept one eye on his inbox. There was no word from Scully, making him question the decision to leave her be, but after the note he left, he couldn't just go to her. The last thing Scully tolerated was overprotectiveness and the fact, that she didn't fight him about the sick leave he arranged, probably used up all the inches she was ready to give in the matter of her current predicament. That, and the dinner. He grinned each time he remembered her laugh, he could to that more often too, if he had the chance.  
And it wasn't as if he had any real reason to worry. What could happen to her at home? Though perhaps it wasn't the best thing to ask himself, considering their history.  
He was getting his third cup of coffee when the mailbox chimed. 

From: queequeg0925@hotmail  
To: trust_no1@mail  
Subject: Re: carb coma  
Hi  
No, carb coma is not a medical term. What we’ve experienced yesterday was postprandial somnolence.  
The exact mechanism of this behavior has not been studied but there are a few theories. Rise in blood glucose could be sensed by neurons inhibited by it, thus decreasing brain arousal, for one. Other name activation of the parasympathetic nervous system as a cause of shift in the autonomic tone evoking a reaction opposite to fight-or-flight. It is also possible that the state is caused by increased absorption of tryptophan by the brain, an aromatic amino acid that is converted into serotonin and then into melatonin, which, as you know, cause sleepiness.  
Personally, I would choose long week and pleasant company.  
I didn’t actually thank you for helping my mom yesterday, so, thank you. She's very fond of you.  
What are you up to this evening?  
Love,  
S

 _Love._ He grinned so wide, his cheeks ached. 

From: trust_no1@mail  
To: queequeg0925@hotmail  
Subject: Re: Re: carb coma  
Dear dr. Scully  
I love it when you talk science, and I volunteer to test all theories at your earliest convenience.  
I'm always happy to help.  
How's the headache? Still bad?  
Love,  
M

Love. Why not, she started it.  
Mulder stared at the screen, giddy with excitement. Like a kid who pulled a prank and was waiting around the corner to watch the reaction of his prey. Minutes passed, steam rose from the mug, his heart pounded. He felt like a teenager.  
Inbox pinged. 

From: queequeg0925@hotmail  
To: trust_no1@mail  
Subject: Leftlovers  
Bring your overnight bag.  
Love,  
S

Was she serious? Did he just read what he just read, was she teasing? Should he take it literally, or was it shorthand for just the dinner part of the evening? Was the subject a typo? She wasn't drunk, not with the meds, she was smarter than that.  
His heart was working overtime, running a marathon as he sat in front of the monitor, staring at the words, meanings escaping his grasp. 

Scully's gaze shifted between the timer and the screen of her laptop. Waiting for his reply, she noticed the typo. The blush went from tips of her ears to the swell of her breasts, but it was too late to take it back. _Lovers._ There was no chance he didn't notice it. Mulder always noticed these things.  
The timer shivered against the desktop when a small, bracketed (1) appeared next to the inbox. 

From: trust_no1@mail  
To: queequeg0925@hotmali  
Subject: Re: Leftlovers  
I'll see you in a few.  
Love,  
M

P.S.  
I'll bring desert. 

She sighed relieved, then smiled. 

\----

Half an hour later, Mulder was walking down the hall to her place, bag slung over one shoulder, keys in hand, at war with himself.  
He faced armed forces, monsters and aliens, freaks and psychopaths, but none of it scared him like the prospect of crossing one line too far with Scully. Abusing her trust and assuming too much, thus risking what little he had, filled him with terror like nothing else ever had.  
First he doubled back home for his overnight bag, telling himself, that she wouldn't tell him to bring it, if she didn't mean it in earnest. Now the pendulum swung, making him certain that she can't possibly want him to stay the night, a figure of speech was all it was.  
Keys in hand jingled nervously as he walked down the hall. He could still turn back, leave the bag in the trunk and no one would be the wiser.  
Three doors down, he caught a whiff of something sweet and spicy, perhaps ginger and garlic? And soy sauce, definitely soy sauce. Doubts forgotten, along with canned soup and sandwich he had for lunch, the scent led him to her door. He knocked.  
_Stir fried chicken, with rice,_ he mused bouncing on tiptoes, waiting, keys chiming. Then it hit him, with the force of a habit it was. She can’t hear him knocking.  
Humming the Rolling Stones' classic, he let himself in. Third time in two days, as he noted in passing. 

She was in the kitchen, surrounded by pots and pans and completely unaware of his entrance. Wary of her reflexes and assuming that catching her eye would be warning enough, Mulder set the pie on the counter, sliding it into her line of sight. Only they weren't as lucky this time.  
Scully jumped, the lid she was lifting slipped from her hand, missed the pot, and slid to the counter, where, by sheer reflex, he tried to catch it mid-slide. Hot metal burned his fingers and he dropped it instantly, stainless steel ringing against marble; the racket deafening.  
"Oh God!" she gasped.  
Grabbing his wrist and pulling him over to the sink, she opened the tap and stuck his hand under the cold stream. The relief was immediate, as was his chagrin. Finally she looked up.  
"Hi," she said, smiling apologetically.  
Mulder couldn't hold back the guilt. He couldn't do anything right now, could he; first the radio, now this. All they needed was a trip to the burn unit, that would make for an entertaining evening.  
"You okay?" She asked, soothing hand on his back, concern in her voice. His hand was going numb but he nodded, tried to smile back, mouthed an apology of his own. "Keep it under the stream for a while."  
Moving on, she stirred the rice in the treacherous pot and covered it, then turned back to him, offering the spoon she was mixing the sauce with. Blowing gently at the business end, light brown and sticky, the chicken and vegetables were already in, "try this."  
Mulder licked the tip, hot with chili. Of course she knew what he liked, they shared meals for years, but by Gods, she was paving the road to his heart and fast.  
He smiled, but shook his head noncommittally.  
"What?" She tried the sauce herself, "too much salt."  
Closing the tap and drying his hands, he shed the jacket. Stepping around her, he took the kettle and poured some water into he sauce. Scully stirred and waited, watching him rummage through her box of herbs and spices.  
The bags were mostly half full, but looked worn, breaking down with disuse. Some names he knew, marjoram, oregano, other sounded new, turmeric and Sichuan pepper. How was it different from plain black pepper, only kitchen gods knew.  
Opening one packet after another, he took a whiff then offered it to her, adding accordingly to her nods and frowns.  
"Just a pinch," she said when he tried the third type of pepper. "Don't be shy," she laughed when he poured lemon grass into the palm of his hand. Some packets went straight into trash.  
He earned a slap on the hand, when he tried to smuggle in some more powdered chili and they took turns, tasting the sauce from one spoon; laughing at germs, the rebels they were.  
The timer rang somewhere near by and he looked around, searching for oven mittens and the source of the sound. He noticed the hoodie draped over the back of one chair and grinned; almost forgot about that one. He turned off the burner under the rice and searched for plates. 

It was good. Not take-out good, not restaurant good, but home-and-heart-and-hands-on delicious. He skipped the wine, though she offered. The food was enough to make him feel drunk. 

Mulder cleaned up, she dried, the coffee machine spitting and gurgling in the background. _Routine in the making,_ he thought, not even minding the silence really, happy to just listen.  
"It's what my mom used to make," she said drying the lid that burned his hand earlier, "quick and simple, and when friends stayed for dinner, she just cooked more rice and split the sauce."  
He smiled, scrubbing the pot and ignoring how silly he felt wearing her apron.  
Kitchen filled with the scent of pie that Scully put in the oven to warm up.  
She crouched by the glass. "How long?" He checked his watch and showed her ten wet fingers. "Good enough." Taking the pie out to cool on a rack, she cut two generous slices.  
"Cherry, your favorite?" She asked, licking her fingers. It was the only one left at the bakery, a small miracle in itself, usually they were out before lunch on weekends.  
"Could be my favorite," she mused, playfully picking a stray cherry and popping it into her mouth, making him weak at the knees at the sight. She scooped ice cream on the side and reached into the cupboard, picking two mugs, one blue and large, one small and white. Did she know he like the blue one, or was it just that it was at hand since last night. He had a favorite mug at Scully's place, and it happened overnight.  
Once done, he took the plates, she took the coffee and they met on the couch.  
The pie was juicy and just sour enough to let the ice cream win in his mouth, warm and soft and cold and sweet. Scully took a bite and melted against his side.  
"Mulder, if you ever want dinner, just bring the pie." She sighed, pulling her legs up, snuggling against him, as if it was just another night. He froze for a mere second of surprise, but she felt it, and he could feel her in turn, pulling back.  
"I'm sorry," she said, eyes on her plate, "I..." She didn't seem sure what, and he didn't give her a chance to find out.  
One arm around her he pulled her back, lips at her ear, speaking softly. "Never be sorry about that."  
It was all she needed to relax back into his side, but then she glanced up, surprised.  
"I heard that!" Scully grinned, and he brushed a kiss over her temple before letting go. Only because his ice cream was melting too fast. 

\----

"Why are we watching a movie that is essentially a musical?" Scully wondered out loud, waking up from a nap, head pillowed on Mulder's thigh. For some unfathomable reason he stopped on Dirty Dancing, must have gotten bored with Bruce Willis and all the shooting and running around.  
Her question met with silence, not only in her ears but also in his posture. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Mulder fast asleep, arm stretched along the back of the couch, pillowing his head, shoes gone, feet crossed on the coffee table. The clock on the VCR showed 1:30 am.  
Sitting up, she stroked his cheek, speaking gently. "Mulder."  
His eyes flew open, looking around, blinking away confusion until focused on her in the dim light, hand covering her palm. "Stay here tonight." she said, he nodded, "I'll find you some sheets, the couch pulls out."  
Moving to stand, he shooed her away to move the coffee table, and before he turned back around, the throw pillows were gone. He pulled out the bed leaving her to finish up, while he found his bag. Good thing he didn't leave it in the car, like he planned.  
He came back from the bathroom to a made bed, the tv still on. With sound turned low, Baby learned her steps, waltzing into a new world, or maybe it was rumba, or foxtrot, how the hell should he know.  
The sheets were cool. The pillow was soft. He was gone in seconds, as if he was home. 

She made the bed and went to her bedroom. Changed in her PJ's and peeking outside after a minute, she saw that the light in the bathroom was out. Mulder was asleep, hugging the pillow like a child. She brushed her teeth and went to bed.  
Sheets felt too cold for comfort, the ringing in her ears was back. It was the dreaded state, when she slept through bedtime and couldn't fall asleep again, brain halfway rested, awake against better judgement. Tossing and turning in search for the right side of the bed to calm her, she closed her eyes, just to open them a minute later. It was last night all over again and she had only one thing left. 

Mulder felt the mattress dip. Someone pulled at the sheet and he opened one eye. A pillow landed next to his, a second later, the redhead on it whispered, "will you be my ears?"  
He put his arm around her and drawing her in, kissed the tip of her ear, holding on to her, warm and small and his.  
They met by the light of the test pattern, sleep broadcasting at the frequency of calm breaths and heartbeats.  
They tuned in.


	4. Chapter 4

Mulder woke up to a bright room, early morning sun peeking through the windows, since no one even thought about closing the blinds the night before. The warmth at his side felt familiar, a fever dream or a memory.  
Be it drugs or grief, he had only vague idea about what happened the night his father was killed, even less of the day that followed. He remembered being shot, and that's only because he woke up two days later with a hole in his shoulder as a reminder. Everything else was nothing more than bits and pieces. He came to her place, fever-weak, comfortable bed, concerned face leaning over him, cool touch on his forehead, deft fingers tugging at his pants, rage, fear and pain. Other memories aren't as vivid, images really, hand on his cheek, cool cloth over his skin, Scully curled in a ball next to him, keeping watch. She took care of him, to the point of banishing his demons by way of a 9mm exorcism. And the first thing he did when he woke up, was yell at her. He remembered that, hated himself for it later.  
Scully stirred, reaching for something inside the dream. She found him and grabbed a fistful of t-shirt, rolling into his side, arm over his chest, her thigh over his. Gently, arms around her, he covered her palm, letting her take his hand and without waking, she relaxed. He didn't dare to move, only held her loosely, watching the new blue outside the window. 

He must have dozed off because next thing he felt was the back of her fingers stroking his cheek, their limbs no longer tangled. Never opening his eyes, he put his arm back around her, fixing that. She traced his cheek again.  
"Mulder," he could hear her smile, "wake up sleepyhead."  
He rolled them to one side, face hidden in her chest, her arms around him, caressing and coaxing, rules felt suspended. "C'mon, aren't you hungry?"  
She felt petite, warm through satin, he forgot how good it felt to sleep next to someone. Daring one more hug, he let go, stretching, arms wide, taking a deep breath of cool, fresh air. Scully's hand stayed on his chest until finally he looked at her, mouthing a lazy, "hey."  
"Hi," she was smiling. Hand on her cheek, he caught her earlobe tugging gently, a question.  
"It's okay, no headache today," she said, laying down next to him, one arm tucked under the pillow.  
“What are we making for breakfast?” The plural didn't go unnoticed. "Bacon?" He nodded, "eggs? I have some frozen bagels I can put in the oven."  
Mulder grinned and covered her mouth with one hand, asking for silence.  
"What?" He showed her three fingers. “We're playing charades again? 3 words,” she said. He brought his thumb and forefinger closer. “Syllables.” He nodded, leaving up one finger.  
“First,” still amused by his pantomime. Nodding very slowly he showed her two fingers. Scully looked puzzled, “okay, but what’s the first syllable?” He repeated the gesture, her expression unchanged. “Two, second syllable, I get it, but what’s the first one?”  
Mulder shook his head, tried again, one finger up.  
Scully sighed, “first syllable.” He pointed at the bed, the spot where he lay. “Bed,” she guessed. He shook his head once, a definite no. Tapping a spot a few inches away, he shook his finger, then again, jabbed the mattress in the first place. “Here!”  
He nodded enthusiastically, and repeated the motions, only slower. “Here” Scully said, dragging the vowels, “and there.”  
Grinning, Mulder drew a circle between the two places, finally getting somewhere.  
“Space between spaces? Air?” She tried spitballing ideas. “Road? From here to there?” He stoped her. “From here to there,” she confirmed, watching him do his finger pointing dance again, drawing a circle the air. “To, the first syllable is to!”  
He nodded happily and she sighed. “This will take ages, I’m going for a notepad.”  
Scully turned to get up but he caught her, pinning her back on the pillows. He didn’t hold her down, just held her, chin on her chest, pleading look on his face. “What?” In a moment of tenderness, she stroked his hair, he looked adorable.  
Taking her hand and slowly pulling it to himself, he turned so that his head was resting on her shoulder and they both could see the palm. She watched, wondering what he had in mind this time, unruffled by the thought, that he was in her bed, practically resting in her arms.  
Mulder couldn’t resist comparing their hands. She watched as he opened her palm, their fingers aligned, then laced for a second, her pale skin against his tan. There was something about his hands she always found attractive, a small, harmless kink of hers. Mulder had the hands of a pianist. She was about to ask if he ever learned to play, but he let go, spread her palm again and with one finger, started to draw lines inside it. A long one, down her fate line, one short along the base of her fingers.  
“T” she guessed. He was writing, touch making her skin tingle. A circle, then a series of crossing lines. “Tonight,” she said and feeling him nod, waited for him to finish his thought.  
“You’re buying dinner tonight?” He nodded, kissing her knuckles.  
"Deal," she patted his chest, "now get up, I'm hungry. Towels are in the bathroom if you want to shower."  
More than a little reluctant, he surrendered. Scully tried to pull at the sheets but he stopped her, earning a look in exchange. He waved his hand over the bed and pointed at himself, shooing her away.  
"Fine, make the bed, bagels?" He nodded and she headed for the kitchen.  
He dropped the throw pillows on the sofa at random, pretty sure he did it wrong. 

Standing under hot spray, he picked a bottle of shampoo, breathing in the scent of no fruit or flower, but pure Scully. Sudden image of her, standing naked, in the exact same place, doing exactly the same thing, bypassed reason and made his cock twitch expectantly. He could do it, it wasn't as if she would hear him. He felt her warmth in the water running down his body, smelled her, instead of imagining it. On the other side of the wall, satin was slipping over her body with each move, a dangerous image. He squeezed himself biting his lip, taking only the tip of the edge off. It was tempting but also unacceptable, fundamentally and utterly wrong. With water running down his back and his forehead against the tile wall, he reined in his thoughts, easing away the hard on. _Enjoy what you have, don't be a pervert,_ he scolded himself.  
Ten minutes later, he was ready to face her, shaved and composed, almost respectable. Bare feet, jeans and gray t-shirt. God, he felt home. Bacon sizzling in the frying pan was fighting with the scent of freshly baked bread. She must have felt him come in.  
"Come watch the bacon," she said, handing him the tongs and he took her place at the stove, the food sizzled deliciously. "C'mere," hand on his arm, she turned him around, "take this too." Apron slipped over his head, Mulder rolled his eyes as she loosely tied the strings behind his back. "I don't want to spend the day washing out greasy staines."  
He barked out a laugh and pulled the t-shirt up for a second, high, flashing bare skin and muscle. Scully slapped his hand, laughing too. "Nothing I haven't seen before," she teased and checked on the bagels. Mulder smirked, flipping the bacon. 

They were finishing breakfast when the phone rang. Mulder noticed it and Scully noticed him.  
"What is it?" He showed her the hand-phone sign, waiting for the answering machine to pick up. Maggie's voice filled the room.  
"Hi, Fox, are you there? Please pick up." He tapped Scully's necklace.  
"Mom?" he nodded. "Go, before she hangs up."  
"...If not," he picked up.  
"Hi mrs Scully."  
"Oh, good, you're there. I called your home number but no one answered," Scully caught up to him, pen and notepad in hand. "I figured you'll be at Dana's."  
"I'm here," he blushed processing that idea, "did something happen?"  
"No dear, no," she said quickly, "I just wanted you to tell Dana, that I won't be able to see her today, something at the church came up, that's all."  
"What is it?" Scully whispered and he shook his head, smiling reassuringly.  
"Okay, I'll let her know," he said to the receiver.  
"I'm really sorry but I have to run, let me know if she needs anything. I can stop by tomorrow."  
"Don't worry, mrs Scully, she's fine, getting better every day," Scully swatted at him with the note book and he ducked, chuckling, "a little frustrated maybe."  
Maggie heard him laugh. "Okay, take care you two."  
"We will, have a nice day, mrs Scully."  
"You too. Bye." Amused, she pointedly cutting the call sort.  
"Bye."  
Mulder hung up and caught Scully's wrists, frowning playfully. She was conducting a full-on assault with the small book and he made her stop it, then took the pad and wrote down the message.  
_'Your mom isn't coming, church emergency, she can be here tomorrow if you need anything.'_  
Scully looked right through her mother’s motives and went back to the kitchen, hiding a grinn. "I'm good." 

"Tell the boys poker night is off." Mulder told Frohike, who was manning the phone.  
"Why? We thought you were in town.”  
“Scully got sick, I’m staying at her place for a while.” Howling on the other end made him cringe, “am I on speaker?”  
“The moment you said the word Scully.”  
“So, Mulder, are you playing house or doctor?” Another voice cut in.  
“Shut up Langly,” Frohike barked, something thumped, Mulder pinched the bridge of his nose.  
“Is it serious?” This time they sounded genuinely concerned.  
“No, just an infection, but still, a nasty one,” he assured, hoping the implied warning would keep them away, at least for a while. “Listen, I gotta go, I’ll see you next week.”  
“Sure, take care of her.” Byers said calmly.  
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Langly chimed in.  
“Geee, like what, talk to a girl?” Frohike said sourly.  
“Bite me!”  
Mulder hung up, without waiting for end of that riff and went back the article he was reading.  
"What have you got there?" Scully leaned over his shoulder, read the headline, "another vampire hunt?"  
One arm around her, he drew her in and she perched herself on his thigh to better see the screen. Mulder opened a new document and started typing.  
_'An incubus, read it.'_ She did, ignoring his arms around her.  
Scanning the article, she recited, "parties, night clubs, women reporting meeting a tall, dark stranger, who somehow made them want to have sex with him. Are you trying to ruin my day?"  
_'Victims recall that they were not coerced, so much as felt an inexplicably powerful attraction.'_ he explained.  
"You think it's one of the Kindred?"  
_'No, the perp is definitely male, no shape-shifting, no deaths.'_  
"You mean, yet. It's most likely some new drug on the market," her tone turned colder, "and these women, unwilling to admit they were raped have created this story as a coping mechanism. No means no, always."  
His face fell and he let go, looking away. Instantly sensing the change, Scully sighed and put her arm around his shoulders, soothing fingers combing through his hair.  
"Mulder, I know the myths as well as you do. The german alp, pori of north-east India, the Turkish Karabasan. Evil spirits, dioecious of bisexual, harvesting semen from men to use it to impregnate women, some stealing life force from their prey to the point of death. Description of these beings varying from formless spirits, handsome men and women, to dwarfs too small to climb a woman's bed if it's placed on a few bricks." That earned her a short laugh, he held her again, listening awed. "Boto, or Amazon River Dolphin, a cross between an incubus and a siren, shape-shifts into a charming, handsome man to seduce young women and take them to his home, underwater. He is depicted as a man, always wearing a hat that hides the breathing hole on top of his head. Let me look at you," she leaned back and made him bow his head, combing through hair this way and that. "No, nothing here," she declared playfully, dropping a kiss on him, once finished. "It's a mixture of sleep paralysis, hypnagogia, superstition and social norms, that for ages stigmatized women's sensuality or tried to cover up rape and the resulting unwanted children."  
Mulder looked at her, enchanted, arms around her waist, swiveling them back and forth on the chair.  
"Is this for the Lone Gunman?" He nodded. "Keep an eye out then, in case we have to notify," she glanced at the article again, "the Chicago office." He nodded again.  
She moved to get up and he let her go. "I'm going for a walk, wanna come?" 

The park was three blocks away from her apartment. Hands in his pockets, Mulder stopped at the first red light, feeling a hand sneaking under his arm. Quick glance caught Scully's smile and made him stand tall, content, sun breaking through the clouds.  
Shoulder to shoulder, on a bench by the pond, they shared a box of crackers.  
Mulder did the mental math, trying to remember when was the last time, he spent so much time physically close to someone. Almost a decade since his last real relationship ended, almost a decade of self-imposed what? Loneliness?  
He was single but he wasn't lonely. Neither did he consider himself unattached or alone. He had people he cared for and who cared for him, some even more than his own family. He had Scully, who was so many things that she escaped definition, no one word could hold who she was to him. Partner, friend, student and teacher, his doctor, his conscience, his sound-board and filter. He could spend his life, learning her various facets and that probably wouldn't be enough time to know her whole. Scully always had one more surprise, waiting round the corner and these last few days were a whole new town for him. She never ceased to amaze him.  
He shook the almost empty box and feeling inside, found the prize.  
"What is it?" She asked, curious.  
Mulder ripped the tiny packet and a small ring fell into his palm. She huffed out a laugh. He turned the ring in his fingers and after a second of thought, took her left hand and slipped the plain, metal ring to her ring finger. Scully played along, presenting her hand, proud as if it was the finest diamond, then touching the tip of her thumb to her fourth finger, made a circle. The too big ring slipped inside the loop easily. "Whops," she teased, catching it and moving to her index, a much better fit.  
Mulder felt lucky enough to put his arm around her shoulders, she scooted closer, leaning into his side, watching the sky, the clouds and the water.  
The world was changing, unnoticed, like shifts of tectonic plates. People passed them, oblivious, just another couple on a bench. 

They shared a quiet lunch in a small restaurant, soup and stake sandwiches, and went home for the desert. They ate the pie cold, it was as good as last night. 

For once, Scully enjoyed the silence. They shared the couch, her feet in Mulder's lap. He was done with the article and now watched the game while she read, finally sucked in by the plot. In the dim light, it was easy to miss his hand on her foot, massaging slowly, or the toy ring, still one her finger, despite washing the dishes and her hands.  
Three innings later, he leaned back, turned on the side lamp for her and fell over, squeezing himself between her and the couch. Surprised by the light, she scooted a little to make room, and ended up with Mulder's head on her stomach, his arm around her, keeping her from falling and her legs resting over his, curled in what space that remained free. They became a human pretzel.  
"Hand me the blanket," she said. He let go for long enough to reach and unfold it over them, a little more on her side, "thanks." Some more wriggling around and she went back to reading, petting Mulder's hair absently. He was like Queequeg, but calmer and smelled better.  
If she'd check, she would notice how he completely lost interest in the game. 

Somewhere mid extra-innings, Scully's stomach rumbled. Mulder looked up, amused.  
"So, what's for dinner?" She asked marking the page.  
Chin on his palm on her stomach, he nodded at the door.  
"I don't wanna go out," she smiled, pulling the blanket up. No force would move her from the couch, Mulder made an excellent heater.  
So, by virtue of long arms, he reached the drawer under the coffee table and felt out the menus she kept there, fanning them out for her with a magician's flourish.  
"Pizza," she picked the beige and red pamphlet and he grinned, faking falling asleep. "Becoming a fan of the carb coma?" she asked, ruffling his hair, flyers landing on the floor. "You'll get fat, like a lazy cat."  
Mulder nuzzled her belly as if he didn't mind in the slightest, then something unexpected happened, she giggled! Breathing in the scent of warmed skin and fabric softener, he tried it again and she giggled, again. Their eyes met.  
"Don't you dare," she warned, but her eyes were smiling.  
Holding her gaze, he slowly reached under the blankets. Scully braced her feet on his thigh and he pounced! Fingers on her side, wiggling and jumping, from waist to ribs to tummy, never in the same place twice as she tried to catch him! She writhed, back arching, he sneaked one arm under her waist to keep her from falling. When she began to tug and scratch at his shirt, he hid his face, nuzzling and tickling and wrestling in the cramped space. The blanket fell to the floor, heels dug into his bones, his essentials dangerously close.  
"No! Stop! Stoooop!" she howled, laughing and slapping his back. "Muld-er!" She hiccuped, he stopped. Still laughing that wonderful belly laugh, she wiped off the tears, limp in his arms.  
"You're e-vil." She choked between syllables and he laughed with her, pulling at her shirt that got twisted up. With each breath she was calming, scrambling to sit up. Following, he picked up the blanket and the brochures. Scully hiccuped again and he rubbed her back, starting to feel bad.  
"I'll be okay," she said, controlling her breathing, stifling another spasm. He offered her a glass of water, she sipped and sighed, then patted his thigh, smiling away the guilty frown. "Make the call, the usual."  
She got up to leave, but he caught her hand, kissing knuckles in apology. Leaning in and taking his face in her hands, she made him look at her.  
"I haven't laughed like that in forever," she said, brushing her lips over his forehead, "I forgot how good it felt." And with that, she went to gather napkins and plates. 

They always ordered large, she ate a third, he finished the crusts. Tonight he ate slowly, very, very slowly, stretching the evening as far as possible, without falling asleep on her couch. Third night in a row looked suspicious, even for him.  
He gathered the paper napkins and closed them inside the empty box, perched on the edge of the couch. It was almost eleven.  
He didn't want to go, not because he was worried or because she was sick, but because, in all honesty, he loved being here. Langly was right, he loved playing house. The thought that this could be an ordinary night was like a drug. Sunday as always, eat dinner, hang out, talk coming week lounging on the couch, make her laugh some more. Why not?  
He looked over his shoulder, saw her perfectly calm smile and committing the image to memory, got up, reaching out one hand, nodding at the door.  
"We're going somewhere?" She asked, taking it without second thought. His heart sank but he shook his head, pointing only at himself. "You're leaving." He spread his arms, shrugged, never letting go of her hand.  
"But we don't have to work tomorrow." A light tugged and he sat back down. Scully moved closer, and cheek on his shoulder, hugged his back. "Stay," she whispered, "I can't sleep when I'm alone,” then, pressing a kiss through his shirt, she added, "please?"  
He looked over his shoulder, her warmth soaking straight through to his bones, melting reason.  
She smiled as he nodded, holding his gaze. Lips slightly parted, hand on cheek, she traced his lower lip. Mulder licked it, a reflex, thought she saw sauce or something, but she was leaning closer and her lips touched his and the world turned to slow motion.  
She was unbelievably soft as he gave back the kiss. Chaste but slow, she held on, tasting his cupid's bow. Something moist and warm met his lip, she drew him closer, shifting. Instinct took over and in a heartbeat, she was in his lap, featherlight and hot under his palms, arms around his neck. She tasted like tomato sauce and oregano, exploring his mouth, as if he was the world's finest gelato.  
He caught on fabric, stroking her back, untucked shirt slipped up, he felt skin, silky warmth. Higher and higher, with each breath her breasts pressed against him, faster with every inch of skin he discovered. Going solely by touch, her bra was a sleeping cop, forcing him to slow down.  
She broke the kiss to make him look and let go, only to lift her arms above her head. It was her turn to play charades and he damn well knew the meaning of that gesture.  
Mulder tugged at the shirt and her hair became a wild mess, revealing pale lace like a painting on cream colored silk. She took his hands back to the clasp, but he had ideas now. Unhindered, he touched, marveling at her figure, slender waist, toned stomach, perfect breasts. He squeezed them, and she covered his hands, head thrown back lightly, asking for more. He knew there was a sensual woman under that professional exterior.  
He kissed her again, nibbling soft kisses down her neck and sternum, the lace did nothing to hide pebbled nipples, only added sensation. She caught his shirt, nails scraping through it, but he couldn't bent any further and there was so much more to explore. Lift and turn, and she was on her back, sending a pillow to the floor, making herself comfortable.  
They were looking at each other. Straps slipped down her arms and arching her back, she unclasped the bra and sent it flying, his t-shit followed. Reaching, she drew him in, kissing again, sensations tripled. Skin on skin.  
Eyes closed, she let his lips do their job, over hills and valleys, journeying south. When he teased her again, with just the tip of his nose, she laughed, "you're incorrigible."  
His kisses however were so much more fun then the tickles. Jeans that remembered times before cancer, a size too big, stayed low on her hips. She knew this was coming, she counted on it, wanted it.  
He nibbled on her hipbones tracing the edge of denim, then looking up, caught a corner with his teeth, asking. She slipped her hand past him, under the fabric, opening herself, slightest touch making her shiver. She showed him wet fingers and Mulder caught her hand, his eyes drifting shut as he licked them clean. She almost came at the sight.  
Sitting up, he unbuttoned her jeans, pulled them away, with a bit of help from her raised hips. Socks gone, nibbling at ankles he worked his way back, up the inside of her calf, knee and thigh. It took divine patience, because all that time he could see her, naked, swollen, neatly trimmed hair dark with arousal. He wanted her, with every drop of his blood, every cell and singing nerve ending, from tiptoes to the top of his head, he needed her. Her legs hooked over his shoulders, hands on her hips, he kissed her and the sound she made, was the stuff of his dreams.  
Scully shifted, pulling him in, guiding. He nibbled and licked, but felt one hand only, it made him curious, he spared a glance. She was squeezing her breast, nipple caught between fingers, he reached, helped, she gasped. "Like that!" she praised and he went back to his feast.  
One hand inside her, he didn't care about holding her still, she was riding his face and he loved it. Sucking on clit, stroking inside, he beckoned her pleasure, small moans turning frantic. He was licking, circling and swiping, hard nub and tight fit.  
"Don't stop, oh God, just there!" She took his free hand, her mouth closed around fingers and sucked, one long drag.  
He stroked her tongue and with a muffled yelp of surprise, she bucked and came undone.  
Pulsing around his fingers, he eased her down, petting skin and kissing wherever he reached, letting her breathe for a while.  
"My God," she laughed, incredulous. Breath ragged, she pulled him up, "you're too good at that." He couldn't help it, he laughed.  
"All those sunflower seeds make sense now," she smiled holding him, tasting herself on his lips. "Such talented mouth." She babbled between kisses to feel him laugh harder, one arm wrapped around him, one hand free to reach the fly of his jeans. Mulder grabbed her wrist.  
"What?" She arched one eyebrow. "Is that your penlight and not what I think it is?"  
He chuckled and showed her one finger. "Oh," she got it, "okay, take your time."  
He kissed her again but didn't let go, measuring his breathing as he rested his forehead against hers. Hand stroking his back was okay, soothing, but if she'd touch his cock now, he'd be gone in 3 seconds flat. Twining their fingers, she held on.  
"Muder," a moment later, she whispered, lips at his ear, "take me to bed."  
His legs felt like rubber and he was hard as hell, but he managed to lift her and carry her away, her arms around his shoulders, legs around his waist. Their lips perfectly aligned, as if two parts of one set. 

Jeans forgotten on the floor, sheets kicked away, the minute she gave him worked miracles.  
She was tight and hot and before he knew, she was on top. Hands on his chest, long fingernails, she would leave marks, he didn't care. Strong thighs held the pace. Leaning in, she stole a kiss, he flipped them over.  
Scully was small so it took some work, but he loved the angle, she, even more so. Here, now, there was no more talk, they were beyond words. A lover of satin, she was as smooth as her bed was soft.  
"Slow down," she gasped, he did, switched gears. She found her clit, stroked herself, he could feel it, learned it, "now harder!"  
He was there to serve, took payment from her lips, kept the tip and the change. She moaned into his mouth, grabbed his ass, and slammed down on his thrusts.  
Her walls gripped him tight and he came, long and hard.  
Lips on her ear, he whispered three words. She heard them. She heard him.


	5. Chapter 5

Jolted out of sleep by a noise so terrible, that the pounding at the door barely registered, Mulder sat upright and shook Scully's shoulder violently. “Scully, wake up!” He jumped out of bed and flicked the overhead light on, looking for his jeans.  
Covering her eyes, Scully pulled the sheet up over herself. “What’s going on?”  
They had no time to play nice so grabbing her by the shoulders he sat her up and, a little more gently, took her face in his hands and made her look at him, dead serious. She snapped out of it, “what’s wrong?”  
Lips at her ear he said loudly, “fire!”  
“Oh God!” Instantly awake, Scully wrestled with sheets. He pulled them away and she was up and running, “badge and gun, my purse is in the closet.”  
He followed her from the bedroom, catching the t-shirt she found and throwing back her jeans, he picked up. She dressed as he gathered her things, finding a pair of sneakers and his worn hoodie for her to wear, while at it. Shrugging into his jacket, feeling for keys and wallet in the inside pocket, Mulder heard people in the corridor, first whiffs of smoke crawling under the door. Scully grabbed her things and they were out, not running but walking purposefully, hand in hand, down the stairs and out the building following a small crowd.  
They were crossing the street when a window shattered, Mulder ducked at the noise, covering Scully’s head without second thought, but they were far enough from the flying glass. One floor above and four windows down from her apartment, smoke rose from a gaping hole in the building's facade.  
“Mr. Grant,” Scully said, worried, “he lives alone.”  
People in bathrobes and slippers were stumbling out of the building, fathers carrying small children, panicked teenagers minding pets. Sirens howled in the distance, blue and red lights coming in fast.  
“There he is,” she pointed to a gray-haired man, coughing and swaying on his feet.  
Mulder’s every muscle screamed to keep Scully where he had her safe, but he forced the feeling down, nodding in the direction of the man, she followed.  
“Mr Grant? Are you okay?” Taking the dazed elderly man by the arm, he led him to the other side of the street. Scully was on him in seconds.  
“How are you feeling? Any chest pain? Dizziness?”  
“Oh, Miss Scully, it’s you,” he sighed relived before a fit cut him off.  
“She can’t hear you, if you're hurt, show her where,” Mulder said.  
“Dizzy, a bit hard to breathe," the man said then coughed again, "there was so much smoke.”  
Tapping Scully's shoulder, Mulder patted his chest, made a so-so gesture, then touched his temple and nodded.  
“Okay, just sit tight, Mr Grant,” Scully said, understanding, “help is on it’s way.”  
A fire truck skidded to a stop in front of the entrance and a man ran to meet the firemen, more and more people gathered on the sidewalk. Mulder jerked his chin in their direction.  
"Go, I got this."  
“Third floor, end of the hall,” he heard the man say as he approached, “he tried to put it out himself, but the fire extinguishers wouldn't work."  
“We have a man who might need medical assistance,” Mulder interjected, the fireman looked at him and followed his outstretched hand, “there, with the redhead in a purple sweatshirt.”  
“Curtis!” The chief firefighter called and one of the men unloading the gear came running with a small oxygen tank and a medical kit, slung over one shoulder. “Go with him, make sure paramedics find them, look around, if someone else needs help.”  
“Yes, sir.”  
Curtis followed Mulder and once Scully noticed them, she made room. He questioned the man just as she did and only when he put an oxygen mask over Mr. Grant's face, Scully finally looked at he scene.  
There was a lot of smoke and a faint glow in the burning apartment, shadows played over the walls as people went in an out. Outside, firemen were keeping more curious bystanders from coming too close.  
Arm around her made her look away, she let Mulder show her to a free spot on the short wall running along the sidewalk.  
"It doesn't look that serious," she noted sitting down and pulling the hoodie closer around herself. Mulder showed her his hand, fingers crossed. "You're right, better not jinx it."  
Taking her hand, he laced his fingers through hers and they sat in silence, watching the lights, organized chaos of firemen running around, people sitting or pacing the sidewalk, afraid for their homes. What prized possessions were they fearing for, what family heirlooms left behind, how many of them had no one to turn to for help or shelter. It felt strange to be as helpless as everyone else.

When an ambulance took mr Grant to the hospital, there was no more smoke coming from the apartment.  
The night was cool and Mulder was about to suggest waiting in the car, when something unidentifiable flew out the window and to the lawn below. Three men were waiting to kill it with fire extinguishers, someone in the crowd cheer. The situation was under control.  
The firemen gathered their things and people stated to go back to their homes.  
"Open the windows even if you can't smell smoke," one of the firemen instructed the crowd walking past. Mulder stoped for a second.  
"What was it?"  
"Spark from a broken power socket most likely, rags caught fire."  
"Is it safe now?" He asked, Scully at his side, nodding back at some of the neighbors.  
"It wasn't anything serious, but leave the windows open tonight."  
"Thanks." Arm around her, he led her inside.  
"What did he say?" She asked when the doors closed behind them, unable to stifle a yawn. Mulder pointed to the nearest power socket, then tapped his nose and made a wide circle, indicating the room. "No, I don't smell anything."  
Fishing out his home keys, he pointed to himself, jiggling them a little.  
"Your place?" She guessed and looked around, smelling the air again, before realizing carbon monoxide was odorless and it was probably wiser to play it safe. "I think you're right, we should open the windows and come back in the morning."  
He nodded and she headed for the bedroom. "Let me get a few things." 

Less then an hour later, she was under a blanket on Mulder's couch, in silk pj's and his arms.  
"Mulder?" Hand on her back moved, though his eyes stayed closed. "If you weren't there tonight, I wouldn't have known what's going on." He stroked her back, soothing the possibilities spinning in her mind, "if things got worse."  
He didn't let her finish, cutting her off with a kiss. Weird at first, Mulder scooted down and to his side, nose to nose, enjoying the feeling of her limbs and curves wrapped around him and only satisfied, when she completely relaxed into his warmth. She felt him sigh as he snuggled a little deeper into the pillow and chose to give him that fight. She kissed him briefly and turned away, her back to his front.  
"Thank you for taking care of me," she said quietly to the room a moment later. Mulder said nothing, just tucked the blanket a little tighter around her. 

Spring was generous that year. Bright sun peeking into the room woke Scully up. She was alone on the couch, with no Mulder in sight. A mug of steaming coffee waited on the table, a post-it that was supposed to greet her, lying beside it. The glue was no match for the hot cup.  
_"I'll be back before this gets cold. Love, M"_  
She managed to splash some water over her face and was making herself comfortable on the couch again, when she saw Mulder busting in, sweaty from the run, shopping bag in hand.  
"Hi," she said and he beamed at her.  
Crossing the room in a few long strides, he leaned over and tipping her head back, kissed her upside down on the mouth. It was ridiculously awkward. “Mulder,” she tried, but his lips shut her up. “Mulder!” She tried again, pushing him away this time, laughing, “go shower! You smell!”  
He smiled and kissed the tip of her nose, heading for the bathroom, undressing as he went. She could feast her eyes on his toned back and dimples above his ass, he was all hers now.  
The bag he left on the coffee table held eggs, bagels, cereal, cream cheese, milk and cream for her coffee. Though she didn’t mind taking it black, she knew he thought about her buying that. Mulder knew the little pleasures she indulged in, be it profiler’s habit or mindfulness, she didn’t care. She left her pj’s on the chair with his sweats and followed him to the shower. 

Steam fogged the mirror and she could smell his body wash in the hot, humid air. Drawing the curtain away almost made him jump out of his skin.  
“Now you know how I feel,” she teased stepping in, “can I help?”  
He grinned and arm around her waist, pushed her under the spray, body hot and slick as she caught his arms for balance. Looking up she let the water wash over her face.  
It was easy to let go and be herself around Mulder, feel the feelings, free of longing, let them fill her and feed her, each taste making her more ravenous than the last.  
Water cut off with lips on her forehead. Hands slipping down her shoulders, she could feel his cock twitch against her hip. Smiling wide and following his gaze down, she didn’t hide her awe. She saw him naked, more than once, perks of being a doctor, but this was different, it was him responding to her, man to a woman, safe, sane and consensual.  
Wrapping one hand around the base, she stroked up, watching him throw his head back, breath held. He grew harder with every inch she traveled and her heart began beating faster. Water ran down his chest, reddened with heat and arousal. Steadying himself, hands on her shoulders, feet a bit wider, she stopped on the edge, teasing the tip with her thumb.  
“Easy,” she said gently, loosening her grip. He looked forlorn for a moment, but her hands were back on his skin before he could protest, “let me do the rest first.”  
Mulder watched as she poured a bit of shower gel into her palm, then offered his hand. She gave him some and lathered her hands, he did the same, making her chuckle.  
They were mirroring each other, her hands on his shoulders, his on hers; sliding down his chest, his palms on her breasts. She circled his nipples, he circled hers; his cock twitched again, she felt herself swell. His happy trail tempted, but she sidetracked gripping his ass, Mulder grinned wickedly and pressed his stiff cock against her slick abdomen. They both tried the tickles on the way back and doubling over fell into each other's arms. Mulder caught her lips as she washed his back, letting the warm water wash over them freely.  
Few sweet moments of roaming hands and tongues later, he was sliding down and kneeling before her, moving her hand on top of his head, asking for the full package, smiling sheepishly. Who was she to deny him anything. With a drop of shampoo, she lathered his hair, a gentle but firm massage.  
Mulder closed his eyes, slowly stroking her thighs, hoping she will take her time. Until now, he thought he was happy with her small caresses, the rare brushes of hands. This though, her sure hands all over him, skin on skin, caring for him, he didn’t even know he needed it until she showed him and he didn’t feel anything as deeply, since the day he found out she would live.  
Burying the need, afraid of drowning in it, he didn't allow himself to look too far into the abyss. It was the one truth he denied, even to himself, that he couldn’t live without her.  
A stray tear got lost in the shower, but he hid his face anyway, forehead against her abdomen, sitting on his heels before her. Her purposeful strokes softened into cares and she sank to her knees, straddling his lap, arms around him, holding tightly.  
“Mulder,” she breathed into his ear, ignoring the suds running down them both now, “hey, come back.”  
She leaned back and let the water wash down his bowed head, fingers combing through hair, over ears and the back of his neck, soothing his shaking breath, and when he finally looked up, she took his face in her hands. She was looking at a new man and she wasn’t afraid, she pressed her lips and whole body to his, offering herself and drawing him in, coaxing him back to attention shamelessly.  
Mulder gave in and let her in, setting himself free. 

The sun was barely touching the couch when Scully leaned against the armrest again, with her bare feet in Mulder's lap, happy to watch him read the sports section and scratch her ankles absently. They spend so much of their lives running around, that they deserved to do this more often, relax and unwind. Was it the silence, that calmed them down? Discussing cases seemed too much trouble right now, with the sun and a warm hand traveling up and down her calf, the light breakfast they had and fresh coffee that was just right.  
Something caught Mulder's attention and dropping the newspaper, he reached for the phone. She scooted closer and he looked at her, tapping her cross and smiling into the receiver. Scully rolled her eyes.  
"Give me the phone," she said, hoping it came out as a whisper. Mulder raised one eyebrow, then laughed at something Maggie said on the other side, looking so happy she could almost hear him. Scully reached for the phone and he handed it over, curious and amused.  
"Hi mom," she said confidently, as if leaving a message on an answering machine, "I just wanted to tell you, that I'm fine and you don't have to worry, I'm with Mulder, and he's taking good care of me." Arm around her shoulders, Mulder kissed her neck, delighted, Scully stifled a giggle. "I’ll come see you on Sunday, okay? I'll give you Mulder now, love you."  
He was shaking with laughter. 

"I'm sorry about her," Mulder said into the somewhat stunned silence, "she's bossy lately."  
"I can see that," Maggie joked, "if you get tired of her, just bring her to me."  
"Oh, I don't think it will come to that," Scully's legs were dangling between his knees again, "but I'll make sure she calls you if anything changes."  
"Thank you Fox, I'll leave you to it then, take care you two."  
"We will, bye Mrs Scully."  
He hung up and leaving the phone on the desk, found a pen and wrote on the margin of the newspaper. _'You're mean.'_  
"I am not," she said leaning against his arm, "it's just we have things to do."  
Change in the set of his shoulders, a little glance down, she read his body as if she wrote the manual. He might as well ask _'like what?'_  
"Groceries, since we're staying at my place." No reaction at that made her look up, smiling sweetly. "Not that the couch isn't comfortable." She kissed his cheek then caught his earlobe whispering, "I just want more room for us, okay?"  
Her tone made him shiver and like that, his lips were on hers again, hot and urgent as he drew her closer.  
Feet digging into the couch, she pulled them down, but then yelped suddenly, laughing and falling limp to the couch. Something rattled and Mulder looked over his shoulder, a picture frame fell down. He brought her foot to his thigh, rubbing the red spot where she hit the metal shelf. Though barefoot, she must have slipped, bracing herself on the armrest.  
“I’m sorry,” she said pouting.  
Mulder jerked his chin for her to move up and seconds later, their lips were together again.  
At first, his kiss was deep and hungry, the kind that makes weak at the knees, dizzy and ecstatic, but when she gasped for air, he slowed down, relaxed. His tongue brushed her parted lips, nibbling kisses softer than marshmallow and ripe peach. Hands weren’t idle, he touched, caressed and squeezed, through fabric and under it, she felt him move, subtle roll of his hips, his weight in her arms, real but not crushing. Kissing Mulder was a full body experience, and she loved how he loved it, she felt it in the bulge in his jeans and the arch of his lips. She could make out with him for hours like this, but eventually they broke apart, sharing a pillow facing each other for a while. His eyes looked greener, unfocused as he traced her features with tips of his fingers, the ridge of her nose, cheekbone, curve of her cheek. Covering his palm, she leaned into it.  
Something caught Mulder’s eye, the toy ring still on her finger. He didn’t read into it, just let the warmth sink in. Leaving the freckles for another time, he kissed the small beauty mark she usually covered up; she let him before claiming his lips. They let the time flow by aimlessly for a long while.

Shopping with Scully was a funny experience. She seemed to know exactly what she wants, how much and where to find it. Mulder was starting to believe she could do it all blindfolded and still find the ripest tomatoes, freshest iceberg lettuce and her favorite brand of croutons. Following her around, pushing the shopping cart, he was also amazed how much foods she needed, given how small she was. Naturally, they were shopping for two, but the sheer variety baffled him. He could tell cucumbers from zucchini just fine, but Scully could pass seven types of tomatoes, that to him looked practically identical, to pick her favorite kind for the specific purpose she planed to use them.  
"Round one's for sandwiches, oblong for tomato sauce," she explained noticing his amusement.  
Mulder threw in some apples and picking one, she smelled it discretely before nodded her approval.  
The butcher knew her on sight and she got the best piece of sirloin and the pinkest chicken breasts he could find.  
In the tea and coffee aisle, he found her brand of coffee while she tried to decide which kind of green tea she felt like trying this time. He caught up to her and she she offered him the boxes, Mulder sniffed. One smelled like mango the other like medicine, so he playfully knocked the fruit one out of her hand and it landed in the basket, making her laugh.  
Two bags of microwave popcorn, seeds and M&M's, beer for him, tonic water for her. With Scully still on meds, they skipped wine and cheese, saving it for another day.  
She picked the yoghurt, he picked frozen waffles, sneaking a can of whipped cream while at it, feeling lucky. Cereal for him, granola for her, and since he loved the fresh backed bagels, he picked a box of that as well. Another carton of eggs and 2 packs of bacon; pasta and cans. Almost done, they stopped by the ice cream, teasing each other with long glances.  
"Which one do you want?" She asked, linking their arms. Mulder found the chocolate ones. "Okay, those are the ones I like, but what do you want?" He looked at her, lost.  
Mulder liked ice cream, but he wasn't really particular about it, sweet and cold was usually what he was looking for, he liked vanilla as much as chocolate or a fruit sorbet. Sure, he preferred sweet and sour black currant over fairly subtle pear, or mint and dark chocolate chip over milk chocolate and raisin, but he wasn't snobbish about it.  
"C'mon, let's go see the weird ones." Scully ordered and pulled him to the far end of the aisle. After classic Ben&Jerry's, Häagen-Dazs and other familiar brands, they found the small parlor kinds.  
"Look, there's vegan, hand made," she pointed out pint sized cartons, "there's even alcohol flavored ice cream."  
Pretty sure that vegan wasn't his jam at the moment, he looked at the fun brands. Coffee with bourbon, pecans and whiskey, lemon and vodka, all sounded nice, but he felt like trying something sweeter. Scully was quick to pick hers.  
"Tofu and almond milk, tangerine cheesecake," she said, taking out a small cup and Mulder rolled his eyes behind her back, glad they had the chocolate as backup. Her choice made his an easy one, salty and sweet, that was his favorite flavor since last night. Arm around her, he reached for his box and showed it to her. "Dark chocolate, whiskey and salted caramel?"  
With one quirked eyebrow and a teasing smile, she looked the way it sounded and without thinking twice, he leaned in and caught her lips, soft and sweet but all too brief. Scully broke free, but licked her lips, her cheeks touched with pink.  
"You'll share, right?" She asked hopefully but Mulder pursed his lips, head cocked to one side, thinking about it. “Mulder!”  
She swatted at his chest and he pushed the cart to the checkout line, laughing under his breath. 

The girl ringing in their groceries eyed Mulder greedily as he packed the food into paper bags with admirable speed. It always amused Scully to no end, because he never seemed to notice, be it bored clerk at a gas station or a leggy flight attendant with extra crackers or a coke, free of charge.  
"What are we doing for lunch?" she asked as he pocketed one of the apples before packing the rest in the bag. They were almost done, the girl scanned the ice cream and said something before he could reply. Mulder reached for his wallet.  
"Let me." Scully moved to his side and he sighed, stopping her hand, ignoring the line behind them. She looked at him, surprised. "What?"  
He pointed at her then at himself, and miming eating, showed her three fingers.  
"So?" she answered, shrugging lightly. He smiled and planted a kiss on her forehead; someone in the line behind them groaned. Scully knew, there was no point in arguing, so she surrendered with a muttered, “fine.”  
Grinning, Mulder handed her her vegan ice cream and paid for their groceries.  
They shared the apple on their way to the car.


	6. Chapter 6

They walked up the path leading to a small viewing terrace. Mulder carried the lunch they picked up at the deli, soup in styrofoam bowls, some sandwiches. They could eat at home, but the day was simply too nice for that.   
Capitol Hill and downtown sprawled in the distance and Mulder realized, that he never thought about work these few days. For the first time in years, he felt like he was on vacation. Not hidden from the world, just removed from it's everyday flow. He slept better, he ate better, he felt better. It felt good to be with someone who cared, knew and understood him, just doing things. So simple; he reached out, Scully took his hand, the world kept on spinning.   
She shared herself with him and he listened, enchanted, sucked in by her past, hands swinging gently between them.   
“About the same time as dad retired and he and mom moved to D.C. I was finishing med school, feeling restless, as you imagine.”   
He chuckled and pointed at her then scratched his head, looking troubled.   
“Yes, there was a time when I didn’t know what to do. I still have those moments, everyone does.” This time, his concern seemed real, a flash of uncertainty.   
“Oh, don’t you give me that look.” She smiled, stepping closer and draping one arm around his middle, “now isn’t one of those moments.” Satisfied, he put his arm around her and she continued.   
“So, when a scout approached me about joining the bureau, and I already was interested in forensic pathology, I took the chance.”  
They reached the top and she guided them to a picnic table, “I moved to Georgetown, to be closer to family. Missy and I used to come here, when she came to visit.”   
Mulder noticed her tone turning wistful. Scully never mentioned her sister, the injustice surrounding her death causing pain to both of them. He hugged her shoulders and she looked up, smile still there, if a touch more sad. "C'mon, let's eat," she ordered.   
Letting go with a kiss on her temple, he served their take-out lunch.

Scully finished first, leaning back and sighing happily. She huffed out a laugh, watching Mulder wolf down last bite of his sandwich. Staying in character, he gave her a wolfish grin and his lips were on hers, coaxing and nibbling. She kissed him back, fairly sure this time, that no one was watching. Palm on the nape of his neck, feeling first the soft hair, then quickened pulse, slowly sliding down, under his leather jacket, into the warmth of his body, so alive.   
New tastes and textures, they learned each other reveling in even the smallest discovery. Mulder had sharp teeth and his full lip was like a whole meal. Soft to nibble on, as he kissed her cupid’s bow, like a pillow to rest her lips upon. His hands were never idle, one arm around her shoulders held her close, while the other mapped out the curve of her hip. Alone or not, she broke the kiss, easing it down between words.   
"Mulder," she said, kissing his pout, "not that I don't like it,” one more to the corner of his mouth, “but this is a public spot."   
He grinned and went back to kissing her, invading her mouth with a broad sweep of his tongue, definitely not safe for public spots. Scully pressed a hand to his chest, a quiet, gentle warning, but he had to have the last word. He throttled down to something still lingering but chaste, proving he could restrain himself, and only when she felt his heart and breathing slow, they broke the kiss. Arm around her shoulders, hand on his thigh, they went back to enjoying the view in the distance.   
Smog that usually hung over the entire area lifted, lending the air almost crystal clear quality. The beating heart of the country looked beautiful and calm, laid out in front of them. Washington monument piercing the sky, Potomac winding like a silver snake through the city, the town itself still in pale gray of winter, but not for long. Soon the parks and avenues would burst green, tamed and landscaped but still full of nature's everlasting glory.   
It was amazing how beautiful it all looked, when one didn't have to look too closely at its' dark underbelly with all the dirty secrets kept in basements of top secret, government facilities. Today, they were just two people, enjoying the sun and each other's company.   
"Let's walk a little," Scully suggested after a few long moments, taking his hand and pulling him to his feet, "I need to move, all the sitting at home is driving me crazy." 

They cleaned up and went back, taking the long way round, again, holding hands.  
Scully matched his stride, comfortable in silence for a good while and when she finally spoke, her tone was playful. She gave him a crooked smile, one that threatened to turn him into mush.  
“Mulder, can I ask you a personal question?” He shook his head, teasing back, and got ignored. “You do have a bedroom, right?”   
He laughed, an honest to God belly laugh. He did and didn't expect that, in the 5 years they knew each other, she never actually asked.   
“Well, do you?" Still chuckling, he nodded. "With a bed," she insisted, threatening causing more fits, "sheets and pillows?" Mulder nodded some more, grinning. "Then why don't you use it?"   
He was thinking how to answer, when a cellphone chirped in his jacket pocket. One finger up to hold her thought, he fished it out and glanced at the number. Crap. 

"Mulder."   
Skinner could hear wind in the background as he fumbled with the receiver, holding it between ear and shoulder, while trying to distinguish up from down on the picture in his hands.   
"Agent Mulder, this is AD Skinner, I received a report from the New York office, concerning what seems to be multiple UFO sightings over Washington county."   
"Not Montana?" He thought this was about the case from last week, why else would Skinner call.  
"No, the report cites statements gathered by the Dresden Sherif's Department."  
Skinner kept talking while Scully hooked her arm under his, catching his eye, changing his train of thought.   
If what Skinner had for them wasn't related to the case he found last week, before she got sick, it meant new round of research, digging through contradictory statements, vague reports and questionable evidence, followed by three or four days on site, interviewing witnesses, good sixteen hour days of work non stop, a classic X-file.   
A year ago, he would jump on the opportunity, 6 months ago, he would sleep on it and get to work in the morning. Today, going in would mean leaving town and her, alone, giving up the easy afternoon, not to mention the ice cream waiting in her fridge, still tired from the last night's fire alarm and knowing the healing powers of her couch and her touch. Even the prospect of a nice trip to upstate New York held considerably less appeal than it would last Thursday morning. Incredible, what difference a few days could make.   
Besides, the case would most likely still be open, once she recovered, and he always valued her expertise, even if it meant her calling him crazy every 20 minutes.   
"Did they request immediate assistance?" He asked as Scully tried and almost managed to whisper, "who is it?"   
"No," Skinner replied and Mulder could swear he heard the man chuckle, "but the report will be waiting for you, when you two come back."   
He sighed, half as embarrassed as he imagined himself to be, when picking up a phone call from his boss while on a date with his partner, and twice as relieved that the man didn't cancel his leave, regardless. "Thank you, sir."   
"How's agent Scully doing?" Mulder's ears burned hot from the warmth in his tone.   
"She's on her way to recovery."   
"Good, contact HR if you would need to extend your," Skinner cleared his throat suggestively, "leave of absence."   
They were totally busted. Mulder managed to stammer a brief 'yes, sir,', before a brusque goodbye ended the call. 

"Was it Skinner?" Scully asked, her smile fading, "new case?"   
Mulder nodded and her arm slipped from under his, drifting away, more than just physically. He could almost hear the protective wall of professionalism and duty spring back up even before she asked, "are you going back to the office?"  
He stopped, gentle hand on her elbow turning her around. She kept her eyes leveled on his chest, hands deep inside jacket pockets.   
Outside world made a habit of bursting bubbles, but what Mulder hoped for was something far more durable. Life was all about choices and happiness didn't just happen, not to him anyway. It took millions of tiny pencil strokes of decisions, drawing a path, the shape of which could be only understood when looking back. Mulder wasn't at a crossroad, he left it behind a lifetime ago, somewhere between Washington D.C. and Allentown, Pensilvania. This moment took months of small and broad strokes, his and hers, retraced choices drawing a new path. Scully once told him, how explorers marked uncharted territories 'here be monsters,' and he smiled at the memory. He was the monster boy after all and they only began exploring these waters.  
With one finger under her chin, decision made, he met her cheerless smile and shaking his head 'no', took her face in his hands, leaned in and kissed her, taking his sweet time. 

Late afternoon brought rain. They barely managed to get to the car before first raindrops hit the windshield of Mulder's Ford and it rained steadily ever since.   
Standing by the sink, washing dishes, Mulder looked out the window, sound of rain mixing with low music on the radio. Barefoot Scully was as quiet as a cat and he didn't see her coming until she slipped her arms around his waist, cheek pressed against his back.   
"I wish I wasn't deaf right now," she said, balance shifting from one foot to the other, making him realize, he was unconsciously swaying to the music, "you could take me dancing."   
Having rinsed the last plate, he pulled the plug and dried his hands. Moving a bit more deliberately he covered her palms folded over his stomach, wondering if she knew that the song was actually 'Walking In Memphis'.  
"Remember that case?" She mused, "when we went to see Cher?"  
That did it, he turned around and grinned, drawing her in with one hand on her hip. Lord, she was tiny.   
"Mulder, I can’t!" She giggled, swaying with him. Trying to follow but missing a beat, she stepped on his toes. "Sorry, sorry.”   
He gathered her in his arms, laughing at her chagrin, and ignoring the swelling beat of the song, moved them in a small circle, happy to simply hold her, warm hands lovingly stroking his back. She moved up and down, petting him, not even a bit shy about it, until she settled with one hand on his shoulder and the other in the back pocket of his jeans, head on his shoulder. It felt good, to be held like this, by someone who truly wanted him. He had lovers before, some of the women he even thought he loved, but none of them matched Scully's warmth, not even close.   
He risked twirling them around, but before they tripped over each other’s feet, Scully pulled him down, lips parted. Hot tip of her tongue brushed his lip and they started dancing to a different kind of music.   
“I’m terrible at this,” she said breathlessly, breaking for air a long moment later. Mulder’s jaw hit the proverbial floor, if this was terrible, what could she do on her best day?   
“I mean dancing! Without the music.” She laughed, catching the kiss he dropped, grinning wickedly.   
To prove her wrong, Mulder spun her out on his arm and back in. She ended up with her back to his front, and he rocked them together, rolling his hips with hers, giving her no choice but to follow.  
“You’re shameless,” she teased, guiding his hands as he nibbled on her neck and earlobe, “I like that.”   
Only like this, with him draped around her back, she could grind her ass against his crotch and feel him draw in a sharp breath, growing semi-hard against her. “You like that too,” she grinned and did it again.   
Without thinking twice, he popped the button on her jeans and pushed one hand under the lacy edge of her panties. She burned hot as he cupped her, a vague hint of wetness turned out to be an ocean, he pressed down and inside her. Scully yelped but he stroked her core, soothing the surprise as she melted against him, reaching back, searching for his lips. He changed the rhythm to the music of her body.   
They kissed as she rocked against him, riding his hand while he indulged, free hand on naked skin, pinching and scratching, circling and smoothing. Her pebbled nipples and soft, bare breasts begged for his touch, but she was intentionally grinding down on his straining cock, tiny moans guiding him, like some crazy game of marco-polo; stroke, moan, louder, closer.   
“Mulder,” she gasped, “I need you, now." Then to his horror, she pushed away, but only to take a wobbly three steps and lean over the table. Looking over her shoulder, her hair a mess and her eyes wild, she beaconed, “like this.”   
And he was right there with her, pushing denim and lace down, his own jeans following in a blink of an eye, cool air for a second and then her; hot, wet center or his universe. She leaned forward, he bent his knees, and his mind froze for a beat, she was pure sensation, a gasp and a groan, tight fit. Leaning forward a bit more, she braced one foot on the bar of the chair, and he finally had room to move inside her, drawing back and diving in, again and again. Hands on her hips, holding on and caressing. He was greedy, wanted to touch and feel, and make her come at the same time, but she usually had better ideas than him.   
“Touch me,” she demanded guiding his hand down, and he did as told. Leaning over her and reaching around, he found her clit again, impossibly hard, little cherry pit, and went back to playing with it, tight circles seemed to be her game tonight.   
One arm locked, braced on the tabletop, their palms next to each other, fingers brushing, each moan growing higher. His legs burned crouched behind her, threatening collapse, but he drove into her, time and time again.   
She leaned a bit more and gasped. "There!" He wasn’t sure if she meant his hand or his cock. “Harder!”   
Better to err on the side of caution, he rammed into her while pressing down on her clit with his fingertips, pulling her in, knocking the table an inch farther with every stroke until she screamed.   
A surprised yelp and the grip of her walls, and he was falling with her, both shaking, breaths shuddering. He stroked her curls, easing her down as she held him partly up, hands flat on the table, right next to where they just had chicken with rice.   
“Oh God,” she laughed, amazed and exhausted, “that was...” She struggled for words and he couldn’t feel prouder.   
Mulder nuzzled her neck and kissed her shoulder before gently retreating and making himself decent again.   
“We moved the table,” she giggled pulling up her pants, leaving the shirt untucked and the top button of her jeans undone with adorable nonchalance.   
Walking to the fridge, teasing smile framed by flushed cheeks, “I don't know about you, but I want some more," she took out the ice cream, "desert?”   
Laughing softly, Mulder swore to himself to take her dancing first chance.

They camped out on the couch, Scully leaning on the armrest with her legs draped over Mulder's lap, his feet on the table, comfortable in ice cream coated afterglow.   
Sex and ice cream, Mulder wasn't sure if he ever did this, so sweet, downright cute. He never suspected Scully's capacity for cuteness and loved her even more for it.   
Aware of the image she projected that gave her her other nickname, the Ice Queen, he marveled at how wrong the world was about her. He was one lucky bastard to see and experience all sides of her, the professional agent, the sensual woman, caring friend and playful girlfriend. Sprawled on the couch with spoonful of fake ice cream in her mouth, she was his one in five billion. Three buttons of her shirt undone, the swell of her breast looked tantalizing, edible even. He wanted to bury his face in her neckline, but he also wanted his ice cream.   
"Don't look at me like that," she laughed, "save your strength." Catching his eye, she licked the ice cream of the spoon without breaking eye contact.   
The motion made his cock twitch. How? How was that possible, he wasn't sixteen, and how good could it be, it was fake ice cream for goodness sakes.   
Reaching over, he tried to dip his spoon in her bowl, but she pulled it away.   
"I'll give you mine, if you give me yours."   
Mulder didn't need to be told twice, he scooped up a big spoon and offered.   
"You're really enjoying this, don't you," she said, letting him feed her.   
Caramel sweetness with a not-so-subtle hint of smokey bourbon, filled her mouth with sensation, creamy texture surrounding the cold core, the salty note coming to life just before she swallowed. It was probably the best ice cream she ever had, and that said a lot. She banished her desert to the coffee table and sat up, scooting closer, invading his space still half draped over his lap, spoon at the ready to raid his bowl. Mulder watched her, dumbfounded. He thought that he was the handsy, physical one, but she treated him like a pillow, a table and exercise equipment rolled into one, not that he was complaining. She dipped into the melting mass and tried some more, bits of caramelized sugar crunching as she bit into them.   
"These are really good."   
Shifting, so that her one leg slipped between his thighs, she scooped up some and lifted the spoon to his mouth. He opened up but she barely let a sweet drop touch his lip, before retreating and closing her lips around it.   
Gaping in mock horror, Mulder pulled the bowl out of her reach. Scully could pull the most adorable pout, the spoon still in her mouth.  
"You're mean." She said, the crease on her forehead was his long time acquaintance. Desert back between them, she fed him a bite, for real this time, then took one for herself, watching him lick his lips, blue green eyes glowing bright. Surrendering the bowl, his free hands went around her, a fair trade, win-win.   
"I probably shouldn't be eating this," she mused, licking the spoon shamelessly, "with the meds and everything."   
He grinned and reached for the bowl but this time she refused to give it back. One for him, one for her, and Mulder heard stainless steel scrape on porcelain.   
"This is it," she said, lifting the last bite cautiously, his gaze shifting from the spoon to her lips, parting as the distance shrank between them.   
Scully caught him staring and teased, "you want it?" He nodded, pulling her closer along with the ice cream.   
"You want it alright," she snickered, moving the spoon ever so slightly away as he leaned forward, trying to reach out.   
Her chest was pressed against his, lips inches apart, and just as he caught the ice cream, her lips on his followed as soon as the spoon cleared his mouth. Rich cream on his tongue, she kissed him deep, tasting salt, whiskey, caramel and Mulder. He shifted beneath her, bowl left her hands, and for a second they lost contact. Alarms went off in her mind.   
“Hey, come back,” she pulled him down to the couch, grinning, “it tastes better like that.”   
Mulder laughed and suddenly she stopped, one leg hooked around his thigh.   
“Wait,” her eyes grew wide, “say something.”  
“Baseball,” he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind and she grinned.   
“I heard that!”   
Catching her lips he tasted ice cream and smiles, before she broke off, laughing for real now.   
“Baseball? Is that what you think about?”   
"Scully," he said, inch away from her parted mouth, "shut up."


	7. Chapter 7

They went to bed early that night, as much as fooling around on the couch was nice, fooling around in bed was nicer. A shirt draped over the bedside lamp dimmed the light.  
Mulder laid sprawled on his front with eyes closed, like a lazy dog, letting Scully’s hands run free. She traced vines down his back, intricate designs like tribal tattoos, flames and swirls. He felt her every breath as she rested half draped over him, thigh over his, breasts against his ribs. A kiss here, there, like flowers blooming on imaginary branches.  
Drawing a line down the valley of his spine, she mused, as if to herself, "I love your back, and..." Leaving the word hanging, she let her hand slide farther, caressing slowly one cheek, then the other. He’d laugh, but then she stroked his sack and the sensation left him boneless.  
His ass was hers for what felt like years now, no revelation there; her openness was the real surprise. Was it the silence in her ears, that made her fill the void with chatter, or the fact that he shut up and opened himself to receive her for a change? If this was ordinary circumstances, they'd probably have to be thoroughly liqueured up to let go of all the filters and let themselves just talk.  
“Your hand is always here,” she said, retreating, fingers splayed over his hip and side, “toeing the line." One fingernail traced the imagined waist of his slacks.  
“I used to wonder when you’d try to cross it, like some men have tried.”  
He dropped the sleeping act and glanced at her over his shoulder, frowning. Normally, she'd pull back, caught on almost exhibitionist honesty, but this wasn't normal, she was letting him in, sharing her secrets.  
"They regretted it.” She half warned, half teased, reading concern and dropping a kiss on his temple, her touch loving, sure but gentle. “I never felt that from you,” she assured, head propped up on her palm. Looking for right words, she wandered south, closer to the up-curve, where small of his back met his ass. “You were always so, casual about it that I felt drawn in, as weird as it sounds.” She laughed, claiming him again, “it never bothered me, and in time, I started to want you to do it, out of sheer curiosity.”  
Mulder shifted slightly beneath her, trying to ease the building pressure. She was making him hard again and noticed that. Scully dropped her voice to a whisper and kept talking, touch becoming insistent. “I was wondering how your hands felt like, if you’d just stroke in passing or go for a full grab.” Kneading him slowly, her hand slipped farther and farther between his thighs.  
“I was thinking about you too,” She found his balls and reached for his cock, fingernail down the length made him shudder. “And it weren’t purely professional thoughts.”  
From sultry to amused in time it took to ghost her fingers back, up and over his crack then stroke the cheeks again. “I couldn’t stop wondering, if you had dimples above your ass.” She confessed, laughing softly, a bubbly sound paired with face nuzzling the crook of his neck. Grinning, he stole a kiss in passing, her hand never stopped wandering.  
“That mystery was quickly solved though,” she moved south again, “remember that arsonist case in Boston?”  
Hiding face in the pillow he was hugging instead of her, Mulder felt slightly embarrassed by the memory of indiscretions past. She had him by the balls, literally, stroking and pinching lightly, his cock straining against the mattress, sweet torture.  
“Well Sherlock,” she breathed, touching one finger to the tip, slick with pre-cum, “I see the game is on.”  
She moved away and, knee to his thigh, prodded him lightly to roll onto his back. Welcoming the relief as his cock sprang up, their hands met, reaching for it together. Mulder tried to pull back, but she caught his wrist.  
“Wait,” she guided them back, grabbing his shaft and he wrapped his hand around hers. “Show me how.”  
Mulder could feel her heat, burning against his thigh; she was getting off on it, just as he was.  
“I know you do it,” she tried a smooth stroke and he squeezed her hand, tightening the grip.  
“Do you think about me?” She asked. He grinned, evading answers, and moved her hand down his length.  
“Do you?” She insisted, gripping the tip, sending a jolt through him, that made the muscles on his stomach twitch. He nodded frantically.  
“I can imagine,” she said triumphantly.  
Realizing she meant, that she imagined him, getting off while thinking about her, made his heart skip a beat. He set a tempo and left her to follow it.  
“I imagined many things,” she stroked the length of his cock, whispering into his ear, disposing with boundaries and propriety. “You doing this in the shower, in motels with very thin walls, or at home, on your couch.” Sidetracking to squeeze his sack, she purred. “I even imagined myself with you, sometimes.”  
She sucked his earlobe into her mouth, biting down lightly and slowing down the strokes to kiss a path down his neck. Tongue and lips leaving moist tracks, pausing to lick the nipple, circling before lovingly kissing its' peak. One arm pillowing his head, Mulder watched her slide down his chest.  
“I would surprise you, asleep, with one of those videos that aren’t yours still on,” she nipped and licked every inch down his side, thumb playing with the tip of his shaft. “I thought of your cock, swollen and hard, just one layer of sweats away from my hands.” Wet kisses down his happy trail, tongue spreading them over his abdomen until, finally, she was there, licking her lips hungrily. Holding his gaze, she nuzzled the length.  
“I imagined doing this on your couch,” it was hard to focus between hands and kisses climbing his shaft, “but we’ll get back to that.” She promised and without further ado, took the tip in her mouth. His breath caught and his eyes rolled back.  
Scully circled the head and pressed her tongue to the underside of his dick, hollowing her cheeks, sucking life out of him. She let him just feel it for a few heartbeats, before her head bobbed and his hips twitched. She couldn’t hear the groan but did it once more, taking him deeper, relaxing her throat, ready to send him over the edge this way. Gripping the base, she squeezed like he showed, adding a flick of tongue before letting go. She kissed the tip lovingly and licked it some more, his hands closed on the sheet, taut muscles playing beneath the skin. He was red, hot steel covered in silk, and the taste? He tasted better than ice cream they had earlier, and she was wet, so wet that she might leave a stain, but he was writhing beneath her now, and she needed both hands.  
She took him back into her mouth and sucked, sheathing her teeth on the way down, feeling the pulsing vein tease her tongue. She was high, high on his scent and taste and his fight for control. Risking letting go to cup his balls, she squeezed them slowly and pressed the spot just bellow, on the far side from his cock.  
Head bobbing faster as his heels dug into the mattress, she felt a hand grip her shoulder, not pushing away but warning, giving her chance to pull back, but there was no way she would miss this, she had him right where she wanted him. She bared her teeth on the next trip down and he was gone, his life shooting down her throat, again and again until his body went soft. She could see him panting, searching for her blindly, as she kissed trembling muscles on her way back, up his body, giving him time to recover slightly.  
She was a live wire herself, the need almost uncomfortable.  
“Hey,” she smiled, lips back at his ear, “you still there?”  
Mulder grinned and shook his head, arm draped around her. As soon as she was close enough, he found her core, grinning as if drunk. His touch, though sloppy, still made a shiver run down her spine.  
“You don’t have to,” she tried, but he already pulled her knee up and over his stomach, slipping three fingers inside her. In and out, she was so wet it was impossible to stop. “Please, I...” He was going by touch, stroking her walls, fingers pumping hard. “I don't...” She writhed, trying to escape his hand, but it wasn’t a real protest, because suddenly her clit slipped on his hipbone and she came undone. A deep spasm from her center and out, afterthought of an orgasm releasing pressure around his hand. She fell limp on top of him, finally close enough to hear his laugh.  
“Sorry, but that’s all I’ve got.” He apologized. She didn’t mind.  
Mulder closed his arms around her, and with the sheet pulled up, they fell asleep, holding each other in a boneless knot. 

The next morning Scully woke up to a predawn, gray sky and an unfamiliar sound. Softer and clearer than anything she heard in a while, a low growl, more like a purr, in synch with the covers moving up and down. Lifting herself on one elbow, she watched Mulder breath in and smiled, rubbing his chest lightly.  
He stirred and mumbled her name, still three-quarters asleep, head rolling on the pillow, hand finding hers, blindly. Scully snuggled into his side, soaking up plump warmth of his lips on her forehead.  
"You were snoring,” she said quietly, finally hearing her own voice, soft but clear.  
"Mhmm, in the mornin'," he mumbled incoherently and was gone instantly, silent but for the sound of breathing. Scully waited for snoring to come back. It never did.

Later in the kitchen, wearing nothing but an oversized gray t-shirt, a pair of strong arms slipped around her waist, followed by a shower of sweet, aimless kisses.  
“Hi,” she smiled when finally, a kiss reached the tip of her ear. She learned the language by now, the peck more a question than a greeting this time. "Say something," she said, voice still sounding a bit strange.  
“Good morning,” he said gently next to her ear.  
She leaned into the kiss pressed against her cheek then, turning around in his arms, with palms flat on bare chest, she pushed him away, creating distance.  
“Okay, now say something else, but don't raise your voice either.”  
He took the pushing away in stride, slipping hands under the hem, to cup her ass. “I love the dress.”  
She stretched on tiptoes and draping arms around his neck, pulled down his lips, replying softly, "can I keep it?”  
“What’s mine is yours,” he grinned, feeling relief wash through him in a flood of warmth, starting at her lips, shutting him up with a proper good morning kiss.  
They broke apart a long moment later, still nose to nose, her slender form flush against his chest.  
"I'm pushing it, am I," Mulder said wryly.  
"A bit," she agreed, but made no move or sign to stop him, going slow would be faking it.  
His embrace tightened, rocking her slightly. "You hungry?"  
With one, last squeeze, she let go, only to pass him a steaming mug and tug at his free hand. “Coffee first, in bed, if you don't mind."  
Mulder laughed. 

With pillows stacked high, she still preferred to lean on his side. Close and tactile these few days, she hardly noticed the gravity anymore, pulling them together, every chance they had.  
“What did Skinner want yesterday?”  
“Some UFO sightings in upstate New York, don’t worry about it.”  
His offhand tone made her grin. “Really?”  
Scully set the mug on the night stand and scooted down, resting her head in his lap to see him, even upside down. “Who are you, and what have you done with my Mulder?”  
“He’s on vacation and,” brushing a strand from her forehead he stage-whispered, “he found a girl.”  
“Wow, that must be one special lady.”  
“One in five billion,” he agreed, letting his hand wander lovingly over her brow and cheek.  
"I'm glad you stayed with me.”  
“Don’t say it that way," he groaned, sinking in pillows.  
“What way?”  
“Like it's a one time thing, beginning to end. I want this to last.”  
She took his hand and laced their fingers together. “So do I.”  
“Really?”  
“Yeah.”  
“You’re not gonna kick me out because you’re fine?”  
“Mulder, I was fine all along, a bit anxious perhaps, but fine. I wanted you here.”  
“Okay, I’m gonna shut up now.”  
“Noo,” it was her turn to moan, “don’t do that.”  
“Yes,” he teased back, “before I say something stupid, and ruin it all.”  
“Like what?”  
His expression changed from playful to honest to tender in the space of an inhale, before he sighed and a shy smile shaped his mouth. “Like I love you.”  
Scully pulled him down and tangled in sheets, they looked at each other, delight and chagrin, a human yin-yang.  
“Well, that would be a stupid thing to say," she stroked his cheek, moving closer, “since you’re so much better at showing it.”  
Mulder closed the gap and kissed her, awkward but honest.  
This was her Mulder, jumping head-first into the unknown, and that was how she loved him, tasting of coffee and promise. 

 

After breakfast, Mulder took over her desk with a pen and a legal pad, hanging on the phone for almost an hour, calling his contacts.  
"You have pictures or something else to substantiate the sighting?"  
Scully, perched herself on the edge, trying to button the cuff on a silk blouse, back to her usual business casual.  
"No, I already called Felix, NICAP has nothing, I was hoping..."  
Keeping the phone between ear and shoulder, listening to the person on the other end, he took her wrist and slipped the small button through it's hole. Scully offered her other hand and he smiled, enjoying helping her dress, as if it was a promise of undressing her later.  
"Okay, fax what you'll find to our office." He let go and wrote something down, laughing. "Yeah, but I'm not making any promises, thanks Janice. Bye."  
"MUFON?" Scully asked, letting him pull her into his lap.  
"New York, they've noticed a spike in activity, not sure why, though."  
"So you are working," she teased, fingers running through his hair. He leaned into her touch.  
"Just a bit. You sure, you don't want me to go with you?"  
"It's just a followup, I'll be back before you notice."  
He chuckled without humor, "good one, you should really call your mom."  
"I will," she kissed his forehead and got up.  
He let go, following her to the door. "Dinner out?”  
“A date?” She smiled over one shoulder, heels muffled by the carpet.  
“Yes, someplace nice, with tablecloths and a wine chart.”  
“How about Friday?” Turning around she caught his fading smile and added, "let's see how today goes and think of something when I get back, okay?"  
She stood on tiptoes and kissed his pout, until it turned upside down.  
"Alright." 

The city sang to her with a cacophony of sounds, horns and engines, feet and talk. She missed the radio, the music of the road, everyday sounds, the absence of which made her feel distant, a spectator in theater of life.  
At the clinic, waiting for her appointment, her mind wandered back to Mulder and the new case that was dumped on them. She wanted to get back to work as soon as possible, but what if the doctor insisted on extending her leave. Would Mulder stay with her, if he did?  
So far, living together was surprisingly easy, despite the lifted toilet seat and abused toothpaste packagings. Images of his pantomime still made her smile, and she could get used to waking up to his face on a pillow next to hers, in his arms even, and that said something because she wasn't the cuddly type. Not to mention the sex, which was nothing short of spectacular, equal parts give and take, just what she liked. Letting go never felt so good, maybe because the trusted him so deeply, to catch and release. He was still Mulder, work in the back of his head, but also ready to set it aside, for her. Now, with that switch flicked, she wanted it, wanted him, them. 

Late afternoon found her before she got back home, and trying the door, found them locked. No one home, no leaking tap disturbing the calm, no tv humming with news or a game turned down low, no cheerful hi from the couch, nothing.  
_And why should there be?_ she thought. After all, she was fine and he had a life and a home, and things were almost back to normal.  
Filling the kettle she spotted his mug, sitting bottom up in the dish drier, next to her cup. Did he want that? Which things Mulder wanted to last?  
To her, he was more than just a sound, a voice in the receiver or a dull monotone from the seat next to hers, in the car. He was the subliminal hum of another life, woven through hers, not just this past week but for years now. When it was cancer, she drew from his strength at a distance, protecting him as she protected herself, but this time was different. She let him in and it felt as if he was already there, waiting for her to open the door for them.  
A scrape of key in the lock made her turn and, as if he read her thoughts, there was Mulder, crossing the room, two bags of take-out in hand, beaming bright.  
“Hi,” he said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her smile, “you were gone quite a while. What did the doctor say?”  
“No field work for a week,” she relayed as he left the bags on the table, “then it all should be okay.”  
Shrugging out of his jacket, he went to hang it up in the closet. The doors creaked as always; Mulder was home.  
“We can do that.”  
She peeked into the bags, lo mein, fried rice, spring rolls, the good stuff.  
"I wanted to cook something for you," he said, coming back, "but the building already went through one fire alarm this week."  
She put her arms around his waist and felt his close around her, instantly, naturally, obviously. "I don't mind," she said quietly.  
"The take-out or the fire alarm?"  
Mulder chuckled, and as she connected the sound with the sensation of his expelled breath, the puzzle pieces clicked into place. She knew how his laugh felt like, and the intimacy of it, made her hug him a bit tighter and longer than she would, even that very morning.  
"You sure you okay?" He asked rubbing her back, voice tinged with concern.  
"Yeah," she let go and glanced at herself, "you pour the wine and I'll change."  
"Yes ma'am." He saluted playfully, making her laugh. Was she becoming his Ahab? 

"What would you do on a normal, Tuesday night?" Mulder asked, drawing crop circles on her back. They fell over on the couch and this time it was her head on his chest, pretending to watch some documentary about the search for Atlantis.  
"This is the new normal," she mumbled, full and warm and happy.  
"No, I mean without me, butting in."  
"I don't know, it's not like I keep a schedule."  
"C'mon, I won't tell anyone, even if you knit sweaters for puppies in your spare time." That earned him a laugh.  
"No, I don't knit and I don't draw." Chin over her hand on his chest, she met his smile, "It's not the eighteenth century, and I like your butting in."  
"So do I," he smoothed her hair, tucking them behind one ear. "What do you do with your free time?  
"I don't really have that much of it," she mused, "between travel, research and paperwork, and since I don't have a housekeeper, there's also cleaning and cooking and laundry and shopping..."  
Mulder groaned, sliding lower so that her face was closer. "Scully!"  
She laughed at his whining and kissed the tip of his nose. "The secret is out, I'm boring."  
"No, you're not."  
"Why do you think I don’t go on holiday."  
"Because if you did, you'd be stalked by creepy dolls?" He teased.  
"That was a one time thing."  
"And just when you decided to ditch me."  
"I didn't ditch you."  
"Yes, you did."  
"Not." She grinned and, before he could argue, shut him up with a kiss.  
"Okay, you didn't ditch me,” he sighed, a little dazed a long moment later, “you have every right to your free time."  
"Better." Their lips met once more, sweeter this time. Rush of first kisses settled into a steady glow and silence became comfortable again, just hands roaming her body, spreading warmth.  
“How about this," he mused, after a long pause, "it’s Saturday, you've done all the chores and finally have some time for yourself, what do you do.”  
“Usually, the phone rings,” she giggled, looking up and running fingers through his hair, scratching gently. “Hey Scully, it’s me.”  
“I do that?”  
“More often than you realize.” He began to feel bad, but her lips were wandering again, visiting his cheek, corner of his lips. “You have exquisite timing.”  
“I’m sorry.” He truly was, though she didn't seem to mind right now. “I don’t do it on purpose.”  
Resting her forehead against his, she sighed, “I know you don’t.”  
“I just,” he paused, self-conscious, It really was easer to show than talk about these things.  
“You miss me?” She offered, bumping tip of her nose against his, “can’t go a single day without saying my name?” Her teasing held no sting, she read his mind. “Sounds like being in love to me.”  
Mulder pulled her lips down and showed, just how much in love he was, but broke free after a moment, just when she thought the subject was dropped.  
“But what if I don’t call?” He said, kiss-softened lips stretched in a grin. Scully laughed under her breath, moving to untangle herself from his embrace, but keeping one hand to pull him up.  
“Usually, I take a bath.” 

They took the glasses and lit up a few candles. Foaming water smelled like lilacs and lavender, fresh towels stacked close at hand. Drying hands on one of the smaller ones, she pulled him closer by the belt on his jeans.  
“You can’t go in like this,” she teased, tugging at the free end, unbuckling it.  
“So, is this for me?”  
“You said once, that I never draw you a bath.” Slipping fingers between denim and skin, she undid the button, pulled the zipper down and cupped him through thin cotton, turning his knees to rubber. “And it’s more for us.”  
Without lingering she pushed pants and briefs down, as he tugged the t-shirt of his back.  
Scully caught his hand before he let it drop to the floor. “No, in there.” She pointed to a wicker hamper 6 feet away.  
Mulder dunked the balled-up shirt expertly, earning a three point smile and a thank you kiss. She disappeared for a second, pulling her own sweater over head, and he caught sight of navy blue lace. Hands sprang up to touch, but he stopped, watching her shake out her hair. Seeing him hover, she stepped closer.  
Gentle brush of fingertips over silky-smooth skin pushed away straps, as he traced the delicate framework of her collarbones and shoulders. Gliding over soft swell of breasts, he teased the edge of fabric and watched candlelight play against quickened breaths.  
But he wasn't there to torture anyone and reached behind her to undo the clasp. Scully let the bra fall and small peaks became pink nipples, begging for touch.  
Kneeling to pick up the bra, he had to steady himself, one hand on her waist, facing perfection, that were her breasts.  
“God, you’re beautiful,” he said, drawing her in, finally feeling skin on skin again. He casually sent the bra into the hamper, right behind his shirt.  
“You should see what I see,” she countered, putting arms around his neck and pressing herself against his chest. He struggled with her jeans and panties, around sloppy kisses, his cock caught between them, throbbing.  
“You’re driving me crazy,” he growled, squeezing bare ass.  
“Crazier than usual?” She smirked, arms tightening around him, all invitation he needed.  
Mulder grinned and picked her up, “off the charts.”  
Legs wrapped around his waist; bathroom door was the closest flat surface. Their lips moved frantically, tongues hungry, just enough presence of mind left to keep them from falling. She was hot and wet, fingernails biting into his shoulder blades.  
“Do it,” she urged, holding on, “or do you need...”  
A gasp replaced teasing as he shifted, pushing against tight fit of her walls, filling her. But she was already two steps ahead. As he gathered his wits, she braced her weight on his shoulders and hips, letting him slip almost all the way out before taking him back in, clamping down on his cock and nearly sending them to the ground. A low curse bounced off the walls.  
"Wait," he panted against the side of her neck. It took every ounce of control he had left, but he looked at her, and holding her gaze, drove into her, watching her face, feeling the heat between them overpower the humid air.  
“You like this?” He asked, not even trying to conceal smugness.  
“I’d like it more, if” she began, but yelped as he thrust once again, done holding back. “Yeah, like that.”  
He didn’t hesitate. Their rapid breaths echoed in the softly lit space. 

Leaning on his chest, soaking up warmth and basking in afterglow, was the best feeling she never knew she was missing out on. The tub wasn’t big enough to brag, but with some finagling they could almost fit in comfortably. Mulder kept watch, sensing her half a wink from falling asleep.  
“This should be illegal.” She murmured, sinking a bit deeper and feeling his hands react instantly.  
“C’mon, Scully, don’t fall asleep.”  
“I just might, don’t you wish sometimes, you could sleep like this?”  
“Like what,” lips brushing against whatever skin he could find, he indulged.  
“Weightless, like a dolphin or a fish.”  
“Isn’t that what a waterbed feels like?”  
“Surprisingly not.” She smiled, gathering water in hand and wetting his knee peeking out of the bath.  
“You’re the one with the sea legs,” he joked, “I’d probably just feel sick all the time, but I know what you mean.”  
“This is good too,” she conceded, finding his hand underwater, their fingers twined, “you’re good.”  
He hugged her to his chest, their arms folding together. “So we could do this more often?” This could be his happy place.  
“Anytime you want.” She said, sleepily but without hesitation. “Where were you? Earlier.”  
“Had to feed the fish, ran a few errands while at it.”  
“Like?”  
“Picking up dry cleaning, little shopping. I picked up yours too, hung it in the closet.”  
“Thanks.”  
“Don't mention it.”  
With Scully's head pillowed on his shoulder and no more words required, he roamed idly. A kiss to her neck, tip of his nose teasing her ear, hands lingering or kneading in passing, flicking nipples lightly. She just smiled, letting him play with her body, focusing on pleasure brought by his touch.  
“Did you imagine this?” He asked quietly, remembering all the things she told him last night.  
“What?” She asked, pretending to not understand, but it only lured his pruned fingertips farther, one hand sliding down, other keeping her upright.  
“Your fantasies," he purred into her ear, “because that's one of mine."  
"Tell me."  
"On a Saturday night, after a trying week around your crackpot, albeit brilliant, partner," one finger brushed her clit, "you like to relax in a bath. I know, because a few times I heard water sloshing in the background, when I called."  
"You should be a detective," she teased, leaning back and resting one leg along the edge of the tub.  
"I know, right?" He chuckled, caressing the inside of her thigh. "So you're all clean, and warmed up and a bit bored, and you just happen to have the phone near by."  
"Really? What are the odds?"  
"Cosmic," he added one finger, stroking her clit, "because you pick up, when I call about some bullshit piece of intel, when really..."  
"All I want, is to hear your voice." She finished, capturing his lips in an awkward kiss. He worked her harder and she gasped, bracing herself. "Keep talking."  
"So we talk, just simple things, but all the time, your fingers are underwater, easing away tension." He pinched one nipple lightly and she tried to help, opening herself wider. "I tell you a story about mermaids or something, and by the time I finish you're laughing." Her head rolled away and he licked the earlobe, teasing opening of her sex.  
Feeling around for a change in texture that dissolved upon touching, and distracted by her writhing body, his hand slipped suddenly and the heel of it nearly slammed on her clit. Scully's breath caught and she froze for a beat, keeping his hand in place then riding out the surprise orgasm.  
"Wow," she sighed, boneless.  
"How much of it was true?" Mulder whispered when she finally collected enough of her thoughts, to roll over in his arms and look him in the eye, flushed and smiling, not even embarrassed.  
"You really are spooky." She kissed him deeply, mindful to not pull them both under as he held her tight, warmer than water.  
"We should get out," he sighed, breaking for air and throwing his head back. She was right, if only there was a way to stay like this forever.  
"C'mon." Scully climbed out first. Water running in rivulets down her body as she picked a towel and shook it free, holding it open for him, as if he was a kid, "the bed can be just as warm and comfortable."  
"And safer," he chuckled stepping out and taking the towel, wrapped her in it and in his arms.  
They fell asleep naked in bed, entwined. 

Waking up in the night, he felt a small body pressed against his back, slender arm draped around his side, fingertips tickling his stomach.  
"No Bill," she mumbled, words half muffled by sheets, "I'm not changing my mind."  
Gently talking her hand, he listened, but she snuggled closer and said nothing else.  
Something shiny caught light on the nightstand. A toy ring they found, together.


	8. Epilogue

Scully laughed as they walked up the driveway. "Stop fidgeting with the flowers!"  
"I can't help it." He gave her a grin and squared his shoulders, hand running nervously though hair, leaving them in a state of her favorite, careless mess.  
"You didn't need to buy those," she sighed, linking their arms, "it's just lunch."  
Climbing four steps to the door without giving him any time to compose himself, she rang the bell and turned, standing on tiptoes to kiss the corner of his lips. "You'll do fine," she breathed, hearing the rushed footsteps inside the house.  
Mulder smiled and the doors opened, before she had the time to step back.  
"Dana," Maggie sighed, pulling her daughter into a fierce hug.  
"Hi mom." Scully kissed her cheek and freed herself gently. "Are we late?"  
"No, you're just in time," she said, reaching for Mulder immediately. "Fox, thank you for taking care of her." He gave back the hug with one arm, holding the flowers awkwardly.  
"Thank you for having me." He smiled, nervousness dissolving in her warmth.  
"Are those for me?" Maggie asked, noticing the bunch of tulips in his hands. Mulder offered the flowers, smile growing. "You shouldn't have."  
"You should see the ones he got for me," Scully laughed, shrugging out of her jacket as she went in and headed straight for the kitchen.  
"They're wonderful, thank you," she hooked one arm under his, leading him inside. "I see there were some changes since I last saw you," her voice was low but definitely happy. Mulder huffed out a laugh at the understatement and nodded, tips of his ears burning. Their eyes met as he handed Maggie his jacket.  
"I'm happy for you." She said affectionately.  
Mulder didn't have any words left, but a simple thank you, all his fears and reservations, gone.  
"Those need water," Maggie smiled and went after Scully, "come on, lunch is waiting."  
Breathing in the heavenly scent, he followed the voices and clinking of plates.

Few hours later, they were walking down the hall to his apartment. Mulder slipped the scarf from around her neck.  
"Can I borrow this?"  
"Why?" Scully asked, watching him fold the thin fabric into a narrow band. "Mulder, I've been deaf for a week, I don't want to be blind next." She warned, eyes narrowed and arms crossed over her chest.  
Mulder sighed, he had it all figured out, the big reveal, but he also knew the tone.  
Scully caught his fading smile, but the guilt lasted less than a second. She took the scarf back and draping it around his neck, pulled his lips down, coaxing them open with a light brush of tongue. He gave back the kiss, brief but not shy, accepting her bribe.  
"Just show me," she whispered, bunching up the scarf with lapels of his jacket, stealing one more peck before letting go, so he could unlock the door.  
"You're no fun," he teased, not meaning a single word, and she shrugged, licking the kiss of her lips, as if it was just a taste of what's to come. Grinning, he adjusted his plans, gripping her hand and pulling her inside. "C'mon."  
Kicking the doors shut, he drew her back into his arms, one hand slipping under her jacket, the other in her hair, crushing her lips against his. Scully gripped his shoulders, raking fingernails over the nape of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. Too many layers between them, the leather, the silk, the soft collar of his sweater. She was getting too hot herself, but his hands were already working on it, tugging at the jacket, tangled with her hands.  
"Work with me, Scully," he huffed out a laugh, taking a step forward and pushing her deeper into the apartment.  
"I'm not fighting," she chuckled, letting go for long enough to free her hands and go for the hem of his sweater as he let his own jacket drop to the hallway floor. One down, still too many to go.  
"So what's the surprise?" She giggled, when his head reappeared, hair sticking in every direction.  
"You'll see," he grinned, pushing her further in, tugging at her cardigan, untucking the thin blouse.  
"When?" Belt buckle clinked, as she tugged the leather free from loops on his jeans, landing heavily on the couch. The wall almost at her back.  
"Right now," He grinned and reached behind her, pulled her close, to avoid crashing with the doors he opened.  
His lips were back on hers, blocking out everything but hands roaming her back and gripping her ass. Something hard hit the back of her calves and she yelped, falling back... to a surprisingly comfortable mattress. Arms and one knee on the bed, Mulder hovered over her, disheveled and panting.  
Scully glanced around and saw the edge of his good, old, Aztec blanket.  
"Told you I have a bed." He chuckled and let her pull him down, using the momentum to flip them both and have her sprawled on his chest, hands free to kneed and caress, as their lips danced together until they were out of breath.  
Scully broke free, laughing, and slipped to one side, head propped up on the heel of her hand, looking around. He watched her smile with obvious satisfaction.  
"Wow," she said finally, combing fingers through his hair, "how is it, that I didn't know about this?"  
"We both have our secrets," he grinned, taking the slap on the chest like a champ. "What? I had to do laundry."  
"You're disgusting." She moaned, but kissed him anyway.  
"And clean up a little," he confessed, as she nuzzled the tip of his nose with the tip of hers, "took me entire afternoon, yesterday. I don't use it that often, so the place turned into something of a storage space."  
"Why?" She was genuinely curious, the room looked nice, the bed with it's canopy dominating the space, but not overwhelming the small framed pictures, two side tables with lamps, some books on a shelf above the headboard. The air and sheets, indeed, smelled fresh.  
"Why I don't use it?" Scully nodded, brushing her parted lips over his. "I never gave it much thought, really," he said truthfully, "I don't mind the couch and it's usually where I fall asleep anyway."  
Memory of her own sleepless nights spent away from bed loomed, and he must have felt her thinking, because he caught her lips and stopped it.  
"But now, I've got someone," he said, rolling them over after a long second or three, "and I want her to feel comfortable here." Brushing the strands away from her face, his gaze filled with tenderness, "and welcome to stay, whenever she feels like it." Hand traveled down her curves, searching for skin underneath the untucked shirt.  
"I don't have my things," she smiled, puling his lips down.  
"I can set," between words, "the alarm," the kisses, "early," became heated.  
"Thanks," she breathed against the corner of his mouth.  
The bed turned out to be very comfortable.

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thanks to Jamie, who helped me breathe life into this story! I'm making a heart with my hands at you!


End file.
